


Fallen Stars of an Endless Night

by ellerean



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ending Credits Setting, Alternate Universe - Splash Free, Arabian AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:29:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4016314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerean/pseuds/ellerean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Nanase of Iwatobi isn't the sole keeper of his secrets—his few, loyal friends know of the history he's buried to claim the throne. But their simple life is to be uprooted, yet again, by a foreign prince who claimed he'd never set foot in that land again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write a Splash Free fic ever since I discovered Splash Free was a thing. (ie, this is 2+ years in the making.)

Any other merchant would have hesitated to bring the wanderer into his home. He wasn’t from their land; he looked nothing like them. Makoto had dragged the unconscious body inside after only a brief hesitation—not one that questioned whether he should, but one imbued with surprise at seeing him again.

He was breathing, which was a relief unto itself; Makoto lay a damp cloth across his forehead, wishing there was some way to cool the water first. But water’s touch was enough. He slept peacefully now, breathing steadily, as Makoto pressed the cloth to the exposed parts of his skin—his forehead, his cheeks, his clavicle. It almost sizzled, like water splashing to hot stone.

“Rin.” He whispered the foreign name, but the foreigner didn’t stir.

 

 

He’d managed to fall asleep himself, but woke before the sun’s beams crossed the window. The floor was cold on his back, the blanket not warm enough for desert nights. Makoto sat up and rubbed his eyes. It wasn’t until he spied the mussed sheets on the bed, absent of a body, that he realized what had woken him was receding footsteps. He’d left a waterskin by the bed the night before, filled to capacity, that was now missing as well. If not for its absence, and the lingering scent of foreign spices, he’d had wondered if his old friend had been there at all.

Makoto’s body creaked as he stood, protesting that it have to work on so little sleep. He peered out the front door, not expecting anything, but was still dismayed by the empty street. There were a number of side streets and alleys; the village was ideal for people who wanted to disappear.

 _Be safe_ , he thought, before locking the door.

 

* * *

 

During the day, only those who wished to be entertained would visit the fortune teller. People who crowded into his den with their giggling friends, curious only of their future successes and love lives.

But upon nightfall, Nagisa waited for a different sort of clientele.

He slept in fragments, dozing at his table, half-conscious of the rattling beads of his entryway. It wasn’t until sunrise that he could fall asleep properly, and then only for a few hours. But he lived for the nights, when the lost and confused came to visit, wishing to learn more than who they will take to bed.

He woke with a start, adjusting his hat as he sat up. It wasn’t the gentle sound of beads that woke him; he saw nothing at first, but felt the raw energy that shot through his small den. When the visitor came through, Nagisa was awake, alert, and curious.

“Welcome!” he chirped. The customer lingered in the doorway, his face hidden under the shadow of his turban. But he could still see a slight smile, that pull at his lips despite his lowered head. It rattled Nagisa with familiarity but he remained rooted to his seat, willing his hands to stop trembling. “You seek my advice?” he asked. “Please, take a seat!”

He was not of Iwatobi. He kept his head lowered as he settled across the table, but Nagisa recognized that pale skin, that wine-colored hair. Nagsia leaned over the table, hovering his hands over the crystal ball. “You’re not unfamiliar to this land,” he said, as the ball sparked to life.

“Quit it with the crystal ball nonsense,” the visitor said.

Nagisa grinned and sat back, lacing his hands behind his head. “Do I tell the prince you’re here now, or do you want to surprise him?”

Rin ignored the query. “You’re a fortune teller,” he spat. “Tell me where he is.”

“Silly,” he replied. “The prince lives in the palace.”

Though he stared at the table, his face concealed by the turban, Nagisa could sense the roll of his eyes. “I didn’t ask where he _lives_.”

When Nagisa leaned forward they were almost face to face, the small table insufficient for privacy. Rin smelled curious; it was sweet, like cherries and saffron. Nothing that could be found in Iwatobi. But there was also something familiar, a blend of incense from a certain local merchant.

Nagisa’s smile grew wider. “Are you making the rounds, Rin-chan?”

His head jerked up, and Nagisa’s fears were confirmed—he’d been changed. His eyes, once soft, were narrowed to slits, his cheekbones sharp and sun-scorched. It wasn’t obvious in the dim lighting whether the rash across his nose was a blush or sunburn. He snarled, and Nagisa spied teeth sharper than teeth should be. “ _Don’t_ use that name.”

 “Prince Nanase is in the desert,” he replied, unfazed. “The gods have blessed us with water, but it’s never enough for our prince.”

Rin rolled his eyes. “’Course not.” He opened his mouth like he wanted to add more, but then clamped it shut.

Nagisa’s voice dropped to a whisper. “There is a path behind the palace that guides him to the oasis. But!”—he raised a finger when Rin moved to stand—“Prince Nanase is the only one who has seen it. Some say the oasis just his imagination.”

“So he’s gone crazy.” Rin chuckled. “Tell me, fortune teller—does it exist?”

Nagisa laced his fingers behind his head again. “There are some secrets you must learn on your own.”

 

* * *

 

The freakin’ _desert_. Rin wish he’d slept longer at Makoto’s, but hadn’t wanted any questions in the morning. And stopping by Nagisa at night had been required, though he was a shit excuse for a fortune teller.

If Rin was going to follow this mysterious path behind the palace, he’d have to get _behind_ the palace—which included sneaking by the countless guards that protected it.

The palace itself wasn’t much, not like the one at Samezuka. It was constructed of white stone, accented in blue. From what Rin remembered of the interior, its halls sparkled with sapphire and diamond rather than the gold and ruby of his own home. It was all very nice and pristine, and it was a shame someone like Haru had inherited it—someone who didn’t appreciate its worth.

Rin hung back, far enough from the guards but close enough to watch. There didn’t seem to be any logic to their movements. They would walk upright, proud, then stop at seemingly random intervals. Rin crouched low, in case the moonlight gave him away. But if anyone noticed the lone figure standing out in the sand, they didn’t acknowledge it.

Rin sipped from his waterskin—he’d thank Makoto for that, eventually—and began to walk.

He wasn’t the only one out at night, though it would be difficult to blend with the crowd. He’d stripped down to a less elaborate garment, but still feared his underclothes gave him away. They were too white and unfrayed, the fabric too fine for a mere commoner. He’d thrown his mother’s shawl over his shoulders, but even that was decorated with black beads around the edges—beads only found at the vendors of a foreign land.

“No one’s gonna care about damn beads,” he muttered, slinking around to the side of the palace.

The building had seemed much larger in his childhood—its halls endless, racing down them for meals and to visit Prince Nanase, sliding on the newly-polished floor in his bare feet. The baths were housed on this side of the building, its windows frosted like the steam that clung to the room’s atmosphere. He wondered if Amakata still worked there, and whether she was still lecturing Haru about wasting too much water. _Probably_ , Rin thought.

The rear of the palace had always struck him as plain, and more so now. It lacked lavish gardens and canopies, having only a small patio where the price would sometimes sit outdoors. Had there been a path? Something, anything, that led away from the palace? Rin squinted, staring at the patio from afar, trying to remember.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/119982082453) on tumblr.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one week? It _has_ been slow at work.

He’d learned something of restraint since discovering the oasis. No one would have believed him if Prince Nanase admitted to how he stood beside the water, not touching it, as he neatly folded his clothes. But it took only once to learn—having to sneak back into the palace in damp raiment, lest he be questioned by any and all whose path he crossed. For where did the prince find _water_ outside the palace walls?

But it was worth the wait when his bare feet sank into the damp sand, when the water licked at his toes. That slight tease was almost enough; he could have returned home, satisfied, but there was more. This was an oasis of his own, and Haru sighed in relief as he walked farther into the pool. The water touched his ankles, his calves, his thighs; it enveloped him to the waist and it cooled his chest; then he filled his lungs with air before plunging beneath the surface.

It wasn’t anything like the baths at Iwatobi Palace. Bathwater was often lukewarm, the tub insufficient for submersion. Here, his feet didn’t touch the bottom. He could glide beneath the water, extend his arms and legs, _move_ within its confines. Haru regretted only that he couldn’t breathe, that he had to resurface to gather another lungful of air. He was improving, though; he could last longer without taking a breath, survive longer beneath the cooling waters of his secret oasis.

He’d discovered it by chance, though the memory wasn’t fond. Each visit to the water was a reminder of his imminent future, an arrangement out of his control, the future of Iwatobi . . .

He came up with a gasp, panting like he’d just raced down the halls of the palace. He frowned as he sank down to his nose, staring at the slight locks of hair that skimmed the water’s surface. He no longer ran down the halls; there was no one chasing him, no laughter bouncing off the palace walls.

Haru was accustomed to the sounds of the oasis—birds flittering in the treetops, and animals stalking their prey in the foliage. They, like, Iwatobi’s citizens, respected his solitude.

But something was amiss. His eyes swept the area first, his body still, and then he slowly rotated around to take in his surroundings. There was no outward evidence of change, but he heard it. The whistle of the wind, and the rustle of the trees; it was different. It was not an unfamiliar sensation, being watched. But the hair on his arms stood on end, and his thighs prickled with nerves. He touched his lips with the tips of his fingers, a slight pressure, one he felt more on his fingertips than his lips—like the way another would feel them.

He had to return to the palace, but he waited. In the years since his discovery his waited for the moment he was found; he was both pleased and unamused that it had yet to happen.

 _What’s the point of guards_ , he thought, _if they can’t track the prince?_

When the rustling settled, when the birds ceased chirping, was when he moved. The water remained silent as he glided to shore, forever working with him, never against him. The cool of the night was swiftly transforming to the heat of day, and it would take little time for his skin to dry as he sat on the sand. He stretched out his legs, tilting his head to the black sky. The stars already started to fade with evidence of the approaching dawn, and though his skin was still clammy he rose from the ground. If there was any chance to return home undetected, it was now.

 

* * *

 

The sun hadn’t completed its ascent, but the heat of the day was already suffocating. The guards had already changed shifts. And Makoto was getting more and more nervous.

He was a common sight on the palace’s rear patio; he and the prince were often seen there with breakfast, before the day began. Before Haru was whisked away inside, and before Makoto opened shop. Breakfast had already arrived, but Haru’s seat remained empty.

He rolled a grape around in his mouth, staring at the concealed path. He’d ventured to the oasis himself only once, sworn to secrecy when they were teenagers, but the visit had been too intimate—he couldn’t concentrate on the water, as Haru had instructed. Not when Haru was accepting the water himself, plunging his naked body into its depths.

There was a rustle in the foliage, a pause while a guard turned the corner, and then Haru scurried out of the brush. He vaulted over a low fence and onto the patio, sinking into his assigned chair.

“Where have you _been_?” Makoto hissed, low enough to not be overheard by guards or approaching servers. Haru narrowed his eyes, the answer obvious and thus unnecessary to disclose. His skin was still damp, but subtle enough that no one besides Makoto would notice. “Is everything all right?” he asked, as the prince heaped fruit onto his plate.

Haru popped a grape into his mouth and stared at him, his jaw slowly working around the fruit. He chewed for too long, given it was only a grape. “Why?”

 _I saw Rin_ , he wanted to say. A guard passed by, staring straight ahead, but even when he disappeared again Makoto remained silent. He picked another grape off the bunch. If the sun wasn’t already scorching his skin, Haru’s glare was. “You were late,” he whispered.

The prince’s expression softened, albeit slightly. “The water needed me.”

“Haru, you can’t . . .” He trailed off, but Haru was too transfixed by his breakfast to notice—the peeled mango in his hand, its juices snaking down between his fingers; the goblet of water, already lukewarm in the direct sunlight. Haru drank it anyway, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back.

In years past, Queen Matsuoka had visited Iwatobi often with her children. It was essential that Prince Nanase befriend the young prince and princess, but it was Prince Matsuoka who was better at making friends. They’d formed a small group of friends, reaching out to even the lowest of commoners. The merchants, the bricklayers, the fortune tellers . . .

“Makoto.”

When he looked up, Haru was staring at him.

“Do you remember”—Makoto spoke slowly, carefully—“when Queen Matsuoka taught us how to start a fire?”

There was a fleeting smile on Haru’s lips, one he would’ve missed if he wasn’t looking for it. Haru pushed a piece of mango into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, like he was trying to recall one of their fondest memories, one he’d never forgotten. “There’s still a burn mark in the hall.”

Makoto chuckled behind a fist, but the amusement was gone; Haru looked away, a hand wrapped around his water goblet, his thumb mindlessly stroking the inlaid pattern on the glass.

Later, Makoto would wonder if he’d pushed too far, if he’d given everything away. Words hadn’t crossed between him and his visitor the previous night, but there was evidence enough—the late-night journey; the attempt at common clothing—that told him this visit had been unannounced. A _surprise_. “What would happen if you saw him again?” he asked.

Not _them_ , but _him_ , heir to Samezuka’s throne, the boy who had pleaded so many times to stay overnight at Iwatobi Palace. The boy who had crowded in the oversized bed with them, clinging to Iwatobi’s prince in his sleep.

Haru stared down at his empty plate, pushing around a trace amount of juice leftover from the fruit. He licked the tip of his finger. “That won’t happen.”

 

* * *

 

After spending the previous night at the oasis, there’d been no opportunity for rest. The hours since breakfast were a blur, one meeting after the other, and then his lessons, and the planning, and even Makoto’s return visit wasn’t enjoyable, with the countless swaths of similar-looking fabric Haru had to choose from . . .

Perhaps his retainers understood his weariness—at least due to his daytime activities—for they scheduled no dinner guests, and allowed the prince to dine alone in his private quarters. He sat on the balcony, and though there was no breeze to speak of he enjoyed his bird’s-eye view of Iwatobi. He poked at his wilted spinach with a gold fork, not noticing the juices spilling onto the table, as he visually walked the streets of the land below.

He knew those streets, once, before he came of age. Before the meetings, and the lessons, and the planning for his future. Haru sighed, forcing himself to eat a piece of roast lamb because he would need the energy, if for no reason than to swim.

He retired early for the night, just after sundown, intent on at least a few hours of sleep. But it wasn’t long before he was awake again, the moon high in the sky, and he was slipping through the unused passageway that would lead him outside palace walls.

Haru cracked the door open, allowing just enough space to watch for the guard who’d pass by on his rounds. It was the new guard, he noticed, his posture impeccable and his knees hardly bending as he marched around the building’s perimeter. Not for the first time, he wondered how the boy got the job—he didn’t look much older than the prince himself, and he wasn’t exactly observant if he didn’t notice the slight crack of the secret door. Haru stood motionless, counted to ten, and then slipped out and dived behind a bush.

With his back to the exit, the guard hadn’t noticed. The moonlight glinted off the boy’s glasses when he rounded the corner, and then Haru would have twenty seconds to make his escape.

He stared longingly at the patio, and the hidden path beyond, but he bolted the other way instead, toward the crowded streets of the commoners.

Haru wasn’t particularly good at blending in—he hadn’t worn his royal raiment, but the loose-fitting pants and shawl around his head did little to conceal his milk-white skin and striking blue eyes. He stared at the ground as he hurried through the cobblestoned alleys, hoping nothing had changed since his last venture into town.

This was not an ideal part of Iwatobi, ducking through narrow streets lined with sleeping beggars. Haru frowned, knotting the shawl tighter around his head. His steps were light, as not to wake them, though a few wordlessly stared up at him. Prince Nanase had been the focus of attention lately; he wondered if any of the beggars recognized him, or knew of the news. And if his retainers learned of his late-night journey to the fortune teller . . .

He let out a sigh of relief as he pushed through the beaded entryway, unprepared for the fortune teller to be otherwise occupied.

“Please wait outside!” he said, as his customer lowered her head farther over the table.

Haru looked from the table to the entryway, eyes wide, but then Nagisa leapt to his feet before Haru could move at all.

“You can wait in the back,” he whispered, ushering the prince through a back door.

Nagisa’s movements had been too rushed, too suspicious, which confirmed Haru’s need to visit him at all. With the back door closed, he was in the midst of Nagisa’s small bedroom. He collapsed onto the bed, his arms and feet dangling over the edges. It was like lying on cobblestones compared to Haru’s own plush mattress, but he could have fallen asleep anywhere with his weariness. He unwrapped the shawl and shook out his hair, then lay back and stared at the stone ceiling. Though customers never came into the bedroom, this area, too, was elaborately decorated. Nagisa had affixed curtains to the ceiling, canopies of sheer color draped over the seldom-used bed and down the cavernous walls.

Perhaps Haru did sleep, for Nagisa’s reappearance was as sudden as his departure. “Haru-chan!” he cried, flouncing onto the bed between Haru’s legs.

Haru sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “Nagisa.”

The fortune teller grinned, bouncing on his knees. “I knew you were going to come visit me.”

“So you know.”

He crossed his arms, staring at the curtained ceiling as if deep in thought, but Haru knew him well enough to recognize the façade. “I know that many things are about to change for you.”

Haru rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay!” Nagisa took both of Haru’s hands in his, studying the lines of his palms. As if Nagisa wasn’t already privy to information that Haru had not yet learned, information that Makoto, too, had been hiding. Neither were good at keeping secrets, and Prince Nanase wasn’t particularly pleased to have secrets kept from him. He sat with his legs draped over either side of the bed, with Nagisa’s knees too close to the hinge of his crotch. But still, Nagisa inched closer, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“Promises of the past are soon to be broken,” he intoned. Haru shivered when Nagisa traced a line on his palm, cutting up to the point of his forefinger. “Your memories have been haunting you, haven’t they? A force will descend upon you, wilder than ever before.”

Haru closed his eyes, hypnotized by his voice and his fortune. Nagisa’s breath snaked through the canal of his ear like honey and water, smooth despite its foreboding, comforting in its subtle threat.

Haru's hands went limp, falling into his lap as he opened his eyes. “He’s coming back?” he whispered.

Nagisa leaned closer, his breath sweet with candied fruit. “He may have already returned.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/120224934793) on tumblr.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the worst self-indulgent drivel and I love writing it.

Haru didn’t have to _see_ the water—he only knew it would soon be in view—for his nerves to settle. The night was dark, but moon offered trace amounts of light on the seemingly invisible path. He held his breath as he pushed through the final overgrown swath of grass, cutting through its knee-high blades, and there it was. He breathed in the scent of the oasis, both clean and vegetal, feeling its touch before it even touched him.

He neatly folded his clothes on a nearby rock, his naked skin prickling for the water’s warmth. But for a moment he only stood, the water mere steps away, and stared at its still surface. He didn’t know how deep it was; he’d never touched bottom at its center. He wondered if it traveled down to the earth’s core, if it would protect him if he were to plunge deeper into its depths. He involuntarily shivered.

Haru let out a breath as his skin touched water, lightly splashing as he slowly immersed. He couldn’t stay long; already his body was weary, having snaked through Iwatobi’s streets undetected. But for the moment his time was his alone, and he concentrated on the water’s healing touch.

“Amazing.”

The voice was like sand grinding against delicate skin, the grains digging into his flesh. Haru’s eyes shot open, frantically trying to focus on the apparition across the dark water.

Then, the guttural laugh. “Only _you_ could pull off something like this.”

Haru drifted toward the shore, nary a sound nor a ripple as he approached his haughty visitor. He wasn’t surprised, but his eyes still widened in recognition.

Prince Matsuoka wasn’t dressed like a prince, stripped down to only a white robe with a red shawl around his shoulders. If he wasn’t wearing his oversized turban he may have passed for a commoner, but his clothes were decorated with beads and gold threading that gave him away. He’d removed his sandals and lay them atop of Haru’s pile of clothes, much to his annoyance.

Rin’s mouth turned down into a scowl. “Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty rest?” he asked. “Making plans for your _wedding_?”

Haru averted his eyes, and then dipped beneath the water.

The liquid barrier between them helped to smooth out his voice. Rin was still talking—shouting, even—but the water served as a sieve, filtering the grating sand and leaving the smooth tones he’d once known. He came up again too soon, and his presence alone stopped Rin mid-phrase.

“You’re too loud,” Haru said. “Come in the water.”

Rin snorted. “I’m not gonna disturb your precious time with the water.”

“You already have.” His feet touched solid ground, and then it was Rin’s turn to look away as Haru walked stark naked out of the pool. His skin glowed, pale and damp in the moonlight.

“Put some clothes on!” Rin crossed his arms, staring up at the trees that shielded them.

“They’ll get wet.”

Rin grunted, ripping the shawl from his shoulders and tossing it at Haru without looking. The fabric was sheer, unsuitable to dry off, but Haru knotted it around his waist regardless.

He frowned. “Why are you here?”

If Rin’s presence wasn’t surprise enough, then his sitting on the ground— _staying_ —sealed the deal. He pushed the robe up above his knees, exposing pale, smooth legs. He was more muscular than Haru, he noticed, staring at the slight strip of his thighs. Rin dipped his toes into the water and then shrunk back, hissing through his teeth. Haru hadn’t thought to mention it was cold.

The shawl slipped down Haru’s waist and he knotted it tighter, waiting. Watching. Rin, taller now, more muscular, his face angular. His hair was too long, wisps escaping from his turban and brushing the nape of his neck. He cupped a handful of water in his palms, then watched it trickle through his fingers.

“You’re going through with it?” Rin asked, dragging a finger through the sand. He swept it around to form indistinguishable patterns of curlicues.

Haru sat cross-legged beside him, but far enough away to leave a body-sized space between them. The absent merchant, their threesome incomplete, or his young bride. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your apologies.” Rin dug a fist into the sand, burying it to the knuckles to erase all evidence of his delicate patterns.

Haru looked up, though could hardly see the sky through the trees. But it was enough to see that the stars were fading, that the sky wasn’t as inky black as it had been when he’d first arrived. He rose to his feet and shook sand off the shawl, waiting for Rin to acknowledge him. Silence between them was an anomaly; Haru’s voice had rarely been the one to fill it.

“Stay at the palace,” he said. The shawl slid off as he reached for his clothes. He was still clammy, his pants sticking to his legs as he pulled them on. “You can return after you—”

“Don't be stupid.” Rin scrambled to standing and wrapped the damp, sand-embedded shawl around his shoulders. "I'll leave now." It carried the water with it, clinging to his robe and his exposed neck, and his feet were still wet as he shoved them into his sandals.

“Rin—”

“Don’t hurt her.”

Haru stared at the glass-like surface of the water rather than Rin. It beckoned him, too still in the absence of his body. But he forced himself to look away, even if it meant staring into Rin’s empty, narrowed eyes. Rin clutched the shawl so tight in his fist that water was trickling down his wrist. Suddenly the blood rushed to Haru’s face, the color high on his cheeks as he matched Rin’s glare.

“I don’t hurt people.”

Even if he’d wanted to stop Rin, he couldn’t. He preferred watching him storm away, struggling through the dense foliage nowhere near the known path. He ripped aside a low-hanging branch, narrowly missing another as he ducked. Haru silently watched, still holding his shirt in both hands while the last evidence of Rin disappeared, the trees falling back into undisturbed peace.

He stared down at a foreign footprint along the water’s edge. He hovered one foot over it, wanting both to leave the print disrupted and to fit them together. All at once he pressed his foot down, without thinking, curling his toes in the print. Remembering how they’d press their soles together, and Rin’s laugh at how small Haru’s feet were. Wondering how he could even walk on them, then hugging Haru in apology when he pouted.

“My feet aren’t small,” he muttered.

He finally pulled on his shirt and squeezed the last droplets of water from his hair. The next day, he’d have to affix his own turban on his head. The thought alone gave him a headache; already he resented the weight of his lineage.

 

* * *

 

Haru had been permitted to sleep late in the morning. It was an ominous sign.

He was, at the very least, left blissfully alone, at least until it was time to be presented for dinner. He sat up with a yawn, grinding the heels of his hands into his sleep-weary eyes. The sun was full-force in the cloudless sky; he’d accidentally left the balcony door open the night before, and the light was hot and harsh on his bedding. Haru tore the blanket off and grudgingly pulled on his dressing gown.

Breakfast was spread out on the balcony, but Haru took a bowl of fruit with him as he ventured into the closet. It was his retainers, not him, who spent their time arranging his wardrobe, but he wasn’t opening the door to dress. He pushed a cherry into his mouth, spat the seed into the bowl, and then crouched to sift through a pile of discarded fabric.

It didn’t take long to find. Haru sank to the floor, taking up a handful of cherries as he studied the plain, metal box he’d pulled from beneath the old fabric. It had been Rin’s father’s, he remembered. A king who had traveled the lands, who was good at making political connections, who received innumerable gifts from rulers around the world.

Haru unfastened the latch—Rin had broken the lock years ago—and winced as the old metal lid squealed on its hinges.

Papers sprung out of the box, having been jammed in there years before. A drawing fluttered onto his lap: four boys sitting around a nonexistent fountain, arms around one another’s shoulders. He set it aside.

He turned over one drawing after another in various degrees of completion, some with a splash of color. He worked his way through the bowl of cherries as he studied each drawing.

Makoto, smiling, dressed like his father in the green of Tachibana merchants.

Rin, kneeling before a roaring fire with his mother in Iwatobi Hall.

Nagisa holding a crystal ball over his head, eyes shining, his bottom half an incomplete sketch.

Rin sitting primly on an indistinct throne, a smirk on his face.

Makoto in the courtyard, chasing a laughing Rin and Nagisa.

A portrait of Rin, his hair colored dark with actual wine, complete with Haru’s fingerprints around the border. He lined his thumb up with one of the small prints before setting it aside.

 _You should draw pictures of us, Haru!_ Rin’s overexcited voice still echoed in his ears. _So we can always remember!_

Haru himself, an approximation of his own aging, with Rin, whose face was partially hidden by Haru’s hair.

His hand shook as he turned through the later drawings.

Rin on his bed, bare-chested, a sheet tangled around his waist.

Rin, standing on the balcony in Iwatobi robes.

He wiped his hands on his thighs, cherry juice staining the powder-blue gown. He shoved the drawings back into the tin, recalling it being much more difficult to wiggle the top closed when he was younger.

He leaned back against the doorframe, eating one cherry at a time, chewing each to a pulp before he swallowed. Rin’s wine-colored portrait still lay at his feet, his smile wide and his hair colored outside the lines.

There was a knock on his chamber door.

“It’s me,” said a familiar voice, and the door creaked open before he could reply.

Makoto’s presence was the breeze the room lacked, allowing him to breathe in the stifling air. Haru watched as he tried to locate the prince in his room, finally spying him at the base of the closet door. He smiled, and Haru squinted like it was too bright to stare into directly. “What are doing in there?”

He answered too quickly. “Nothing.”

But he was already crossing the room, and Haru hadn’t moved in attempt to conceal his nostalgia. Makoto leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared down at the sole portrait of an old friend.

“You knew he was here,” Haru said.

Makoto looked away and toward the balcony—anywhere but at Haru—at the curtains that remained immobile in the still air. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Haru.”

Haru prodded the metal box with his toe until it disappeared again, concealed by the seemingly random pile of old fabric. “Will he be at dinner?”

“No.” Makoto shook his head. “He’s not on the guest list.”

Makoto often went above and beyond his duties as simple merchant, aiding the Nanase family with more than merely clothes and spices. Haru didn’t care to understand how, only that Makoto was there when needed. Which, as of late, was often.

“I’ll help you get dressed,” Makoto offered, and Haru _hmph_ ed in reply. “Why don’t you finish breakfast, and I’ll put together your outfit?”

Haru stood, nodded once, then hugged his cherry bowl as he shuffled out to the balcony.

* * *

 

_“You should draw pictures of us, Haru! So we can always remember!”_

_There was little shade to speak of in the courtyard. Haru had tried to find a spot beneath a tree that wasn’t in direct sunlight, but the sun constantly shifted as it rose higher in the sky._

_“That’s a great idea, Rin-chan!” Nagisa bounced beside him, his overgrown flop of yellow hair bobbing in tempo. “Draw me, Haru-chan!”_

_He was waiting for Makoto to come to his rescue, but the merchant’s son wasn’t saying anything. He stood behind the duo, trying not to laugh, probably wishing that the young prince would immortalize him on paper, too._

_Haru folded his knees for a makeshift easel, though the surface wasn’t hard enough to draw on. But still he tried, pressing lightly with the graphite so it didn’t impale the page. “Leave me alone.”_

_From his peripheral vision he saw the three glance at each other, and then Rin broke into a smile. “Hey, Haru,” he said. “Do you think the king would mind if Makoto and Nagisa slept over, too?”_

_He didn’t look up from his sketch. “They can stay.”_

_Rin whooped and dropped to his knees, hugging Haru around the shoulders despite his desperate squirm to break free. “You’re the best, Haru,” he whispered, uncomfortably close to Haru’s ear. “Your bed is big enough for all of us, right? As long as I get to sleep next to you.”_

_Haru jerked his head away. “Fine.”_

_Nagisa had started to run around the courtyard, chasing one of the innumerable butterflies that graced the gardens. It wasn’t until Makoto had started to run, and then Rin, too, chasing each other around, that Haru watched. Nagisa squealed entirely too loud, but even his high-pitched shriek was no match for Rin. His laugh could probably be heard across the whole of Iwatobi, and to Samezuka beyond. Makoto chased both of them, only wanting them to be careful, don’t run through the flowers, you know how Queen Nanase is about her garden . . ._

_Rin scrabbled up a tree, swinging from one branch to another until he found one sturdy enough to perch on. His vantage point provided a sweeping view of the courtyard, from the blooming roses—Queen Nanase’s pride and joy—to the trees that lined the palace wall, a feat of agriculture in their identical height and shape. But Rin wasn’t admiring the gardens—his gaze was fixed on one small shadow beneath a tree, a young prince who was curled up with his precious graphite and paper._

_He didn’t look away, even when Haru caught him staring. The sun had moved again, or so Haru thought, because his skin was searing in the desert heat. Rin swung his legs, one arm wrapped around the tree trunk, his red hair sweat-matted and unruly from running around at high noon. It was hard to tell from halfway across the courtyard, but as Rin watched him, Haru would swear a small smile crossed his lips._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/120488773168) on tumblr.)


	4. Chapter 4

Haru wanted to complain about his formalwear. Too many layers; too much time to put it on; too long as it swept the floor. But he said nothing, because it was light and breathable, and because Makoto had been the one to arrange it. It wasn’t as restrictive as his everyday attire, at least, though he felt too bundled without his midriff bared. But still, he sighed, extending his arms as Makoto retied the sash at his waist. He stared at the wooden double doors before them, hearing the muted conversations within. Individual words were indistinguishable, but he didn’t doubt they were discussing him.

“Ready?” Makoto asked, and Haru nodded.

The banquet hall was already filled to capacity as the doors opened wide, and a hush fell over it as Haru filled the entryway.

A voice echoed over the room. “Introducing, Prince Haruka Nanase.”

Servants and guests alike fell to their knees as Haru stepped inside, their faces to the floor and their arms outstretched as if reaching for him. He stared at their heads as he passed, searching for the red turban he knew wasn’t there.

The only ones who remained standing were at the end of the banquet table, those who still held a higher rank than he—King and Queen Nanase; Queen Matsuoka.

The latter winked as Haru approached, which was reassurance enough that his knees no longer felt they would give out on him.

Haru took his place at the head of the table, wondering where Makoto had run off to. He had been invited to the dinner, but hadn’t followed him in. It took little time to find him near the hall’s entrance, lowered to his knees with the rest of the servants. It wasn’t until the doors were closed that they all rose to their feet simultaneously, brushing nonexistent dirt off their robes.

A second set of double doors opened, and again their guests fell to their knees in obeisance. Haru wondered if they were tired, constantly bowing to each member of the royal family that was simply on their way to dinner.

“Introducing,” the voice intoned, “Princess Gou Matsuoka.”

It had been designed that Haru’s seat faced the doors that Gou would walk through, deliberately putting her in his line of vision. King and Queen Nanase watched him, rather than the princess; they anticipated the sparkle in his eye when she would approach, and they watched in amusement for his outward reaction to the jewel of Samezuka.

Princess Gou was dressed in red and gold silk that swept the floor as she walked. Her head was wound with a veil, though her face had been left exposed for dinner. Bangles decorated her arms to the elbow, jangling with each slow step toward the head of the table.

She was beautiful, but Haru was transfixed by the water in his goblet. “Haruka,” his mother whispered, and it was an effort to lift his head.

Gou’s lips were painted a vibrant red, turned up in a hesitant smile. Her eyes were lined in heavy kohl, making them look even larger than they already were, and dusted with gold. Last time they’d encountered, Gou had been running around Iwatobi’s courtyard in her brother’s old clothing. Now, he couldn’t read her expression as she took her place near the head of the table—part nerves, part amusement, part sympathy.

Haru bowed his head. “Princess.” He rose quickly and hastily squared his shoulders, the silk giving away every twitch and clench of his muscles.

Gou was unfazed, offering him a nod with that complex smile. “Prince Haruka.”

The royal families lowered to their seats, and it wasn’t until that moment that their guest were seated as well. Haru scanned the bustle of servants for Makoto, and relaxed to find him scurrying for his seat near the head of the table. Gou, too, acknowledged him when he sat, sharing a smile across the table and a slight nod in greeting. Haru still could only picture the dirt-slinging and squeals of their youth.

Queen Nanase lifted her water goblet for the toast. “Thank you all for joining us today.” The guests raised their glasses as well. “We have waited many decades for these festivities, and I know you are excited as we about Prince Haruka’s forthcoming marriage.” A gentle murmur of assent rose from the table, settling just as quickly when she turned to Gou. “Princess Gou, a week is far too long to wait for you to join our family. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Iwatobi, and to the Nanase family.”

Haru sat unnaturally straight. He clutched his robes in his fists as his gaze swept over each face around the table. They stared at him; they stared at Gou; they stared at his mother. Despite his many layers, the silks did little to conceal his labored breathing. He thought even his pounding heart was visible in his chest. He stared at Makoto without seeing him, seeking anything that could be considered normal and familiar.

“And now,” King Nanase concluded, “let us eat!”

 

* * *

 

“ _This_ is your great plan?”

“This is a _great_ plan!”

Rin closed his eyes and massaged his temples, both annoyed and grateful that Nagisa kept on adjusting parts of his attire. After the days of wandering in little but a robe, his full royal regalia was suffocating. Nagisa tried to pull the front closed, but Rin swatted his hand away. He wasn’t that warm to warrant his profuse sweating, and he liked the relief of exposure.

The guard that stood before them, however, was incredulous. He tapped his foot, adjusted his glasses, crossed his arms, and then repeated it over again, both staring at Nagisa and balking at the gaudy decorations of the fortune teller’s parlor.

“I can get in on my own,” Rin muttered.

The guard’s attention snapped to Rin. “Then I will have to report you.”

Nagisa huffed, and a wayward strand of hair flopped over his eyes. “You have to _help_ , Rei-chan. This is true love!”

“It is _not_!” Rin barked.

“If I may ask,” the guard, Rei, interrupted, adjusting his glasses again, “have you considered the reaction of your family, Prince Matsuoka? I don’t believe the princess will be so quick to forgive.”

“She’s my _sister_!” Rin finally sidestepped away from Nagisa’s fussing. “I’ll deal with her later.”

Nagisa pushed past them both—Rin growled and adjusted his turban—and poked his head out the front door. He waved to a passing bystander, and then nodded when the alleyway was clear. “Let’s go! It’ll take longer to get there, because we have to take the side streets. The prince of Samezuka must not be seen!”

Rin gritted his teeth. “Will you two _stop_ using my name?”

Nagisa’s use of the word “side streets” had been generous. They were little but narrow paths, lined with litter and beggars. Grimy, outstretched hands grappling for Rin’s robes, taunting him for his beauty and finery.

“Got a little change to spare, pretty boy?”

Rin bundled up his skirts to carry them in his arms, away from the dusty streets and beggars’ hands.

“Where are _you_ going, beautiful?”

Nagisa and Rin fell into step on either side of him, often walking sideways down many of the pathways. It didn’t take long to understand how the absurdly-prim Rei became a guard—he kept his voice down, but his repeated “excuse me” and “do not touch the man, please” were stern enough to ward off most of them.

“ _Why_ couldn’t we have met at the _palace_?” Rin muttered.

Nagisa walked so close that Rin felt the rumble of his giggle. “You know _why_ , Rin-chan.”

With all his wanderings as a child, Rin had no idea where they were. It wasn’t until they’d approached the courtyard gate that he recognized where they were, and he clutched at his chest to see the perfectly-manicured grass through the fence. But Nagisa gently held his wrist as Rei unlocked the gate, and he was shuffled along before he could change his mind.

He was distantly aware of the sound of the latch bolting closed behind them. Locking them in. Rin took a quick sweep of the courtyard, the only signs of life being the multicolored butterflies and the insects that hovered near the flowers.

“Ahh,” Nagisa sighed, stretching his arms out. “This brings me back!”

“You will wait here.” Rei’s hands visibly shook as he dropped the keys into his satchel. He left without another word, and without waiting for a response, but cast a weary glance over his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

_“Where are Makoto and Nagisa? Are they coming?”_

_Haru knotted his dressing gown tighter. He’d just received a new one, having outgrown the old, and he wasn’t used to all the extra fabric around his torso. “No.”_

_Rin beamed as he flounced onto the bed. “Then it’s just us!”_

_Rin’s dressing gown was much more elaborate, but so was everything of Samezuka. Haru preferred his own plain, powder-blue gown, reluctantly permitting the silver threading of its hem. Though he didn’t mind the Iwatobi crest on his back, because he couldn’t see it. But Rin’s gown was ridiculous in comparison, is black silk twisted with gold and red stitching, an oversize Samezuka crest emblazoned on the arm. He caught Rin staring at that crest more than once._

_“Mama will come back early in the morning,” Rin said, “but I’m glad she let me sleep over.”_

_Haru hadn’t moved from his spot in the middle of the room. He watched Rin roll over on his bed, spreading out his arms and legs to reach the edges. He almost reached, but not quite, extending his fingers longer to take up more space._

_“You’re hogging the bed,” Haru said._

_“Haru.” He sat up against the headboard, finally allowing Haru a place to sit. He perched cross-legged at the end of the bed, but Rin immediately crossed the space so their knees touched when he leaned in to speak. “What’s gonna happen when we get older?”_

_Haru looked down. With the new dressing gown, even his calves were concealed when he sat like this. The old one used to creep up to his knees. “You know what’s going to happen.”_

_“I know, but . . . what if we could stop it?”_

_Haru peered up, curious._

_When Rin set a hand on his knee, he thought his skin would scorch from touch alone. This was different—it wasn’t Rin clinging to his arm as he laughed, or draping an arm around his shoulders. This was Rin’s hand; it was Rin’s thumb, stroking the silky fabric of his gown, pushing it aside to touch the bare skin of his knee._

_His eyes fell again. Rin’s hand disappeared up his gown to rest on his thigh. He was glad he wore undergarments; normally he wouldn’t to sleep, but he willingly suffered the discomfort of clothing when friends shared his bed._

_“It won’t make a difference,” Haru whispered. “They’re still going to announce the engagement.”_

_He didn’t have to look up to know Rin smirked. “Not if you’ve been bad.”_

_Haru’s hand moved mechanically, disconnected from the logical part of his mind, toying at the knot of Rin’s dressing gown. Rin inched closer, steepling his legs around Haru’s body, and then Haru was touching the smooth skin of Rin’s waist. Both hands, then, holding on too tight, which Rin took as an invitation to crawl into his lap._

_“They won’t care,” Haru murmured, feeling the damp words as they bounced off Rin’s mouth._

_But Rin’s reply was choked off by Haru’s lips, his mouth partially open in retaliation, his warm tongue sliding between Haru’s lips rather than speaking the words of denial._

_Rin’s hands slid farther up his gown and Haru’s legs were chilled as they were exposed, the still-new dressing gown bunched up around his waist. Rin was gasping through kisses, his nails digging into the soft flesh of Haru’s thighs. He tasted salt, that brief sign of either relief or despair before it slipped through their lips. He savored Rin’s mouth and his tears as they clung to each other, as Haru gently pushed him backward to lie on the bed._

 

* * *

 

It was a test of fate that they’d all grown up together, the children of two different lands and varying social standings. They had Rin to thank for that, Makoto thought, him being the one to run around Iwatobi’s streets in search of those his own age. He’d seemed particularly excited about Makoto, the boy his age already proudly working at his father’s side. How he’d discovered Nagisa was still a mystery, though Rin hadn’t been above slinking through alleys for the sake of discovery. Gou merely humored her brother, though her affection was displayed in her desperate attempts to tag along with his games and journeys. Even after her engagement to Prince Nanase had been announced, their friendship hadn’t changed—and Haru’s relations with his future brother-in-law seemed stronger than before.

Makoto stared across the table, watching Gou’s easy small talk with the ambassador to Tottori. Even if things had been different they would still be sitting at that table, celebrating his best friend’s imminent marriage.

Except, maybe, Prince Matsuoka would be there as well.

Queen Matsuoka looked older than the last time he’d seen her, but she still radiated a threatening beauty. She’d been situated beside Haru, who sat at the head of the table, and across from her daughter. Like it was only the three of them.

The queen kept on touching Haru as she spoke, and he made no move to avoid it. It was a small victory, a silent trust in her after all the years that had passed.

“Iwatobi is beautiful,” Gou was saying to the ambassador. Makoto noticed that she’d been holding the same forkful of rice for the past five minutes, not having a spare moment to eat it. Haru, controversially, had emptied his plate and was trying to eye a server to fill his water goblet.

Gou finally had an opportunity to eat a few forkfuls of food once the ambassador had launched into a story about visiting Gou’s homeland. Makoto would swear he’d heard her stomach growling from across the table.

But his attention was distracted by Queen Nanase’s sudden pause. She remained still, her goblet halfway to her lips, but her eyes darted around the banquet hall. She looked to Makoto, who was always the one to pick up on the small details, but he subtly tilted his head in a silent, _What’s wrong?_ She whispered to the king, who nodded, and it was while he was waving a server over that Makoto heard it, too.

Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate footsteps, rapidly increasing in volume.

Gou’s eyes widened first, and Makoto was partway up to standing when the double doors at the end of the hall—the very same that Princess Gou herself had entered through—swung open with a bang.

Prince Rin Matsuoka filled the entryway, his arms and his smile spread wide. He was in full regalia, dripping in silks, the wide sleeves outstretched like wings. “I almost missed the party!” he cried.

Little affected Prince Nanase, but his gold spoon slipped from his fingers and splashed back into the bowl. The green soup streaked across his arm and the front of his robes, but he didn’t notice the trickle down his hand, frozen in mid-air.

King and Queen Nanase were shouting for the guards, speaking over each other and tripping on the floor-length tablecloth as they hastily rose. Rin strode into the room, seemingly ignorant of the men approaching him with bayonets. As a child, his smile had been the one to put his companions at ease; now, a shiver ripped up Makoto’s spine.

“Do not touch him!”

Princess Gou slammed her hand on the table, plates and silverware rattling four seats away. The guards stopped, glancing at one another uncertainly, but then backed away from the intruder when the princess stormed out of her seat.

Makoto’s view was partially blocked now by a line of guards, but one thing was for certain—Rin’s smile had quickly been replaced by a sheer look of terror as Gou stomped toward him.

If the seemingly delicate princess’s outburst wasn’t surprise enough—as it was, judging by the slack-jawed expression of nearly all at the banquet table—there was a collective gasp as she slapped her brother across the face.

“You idiot!” Rin held his smarting cheek, leaning back as Gou jammed a finger in his face. “You’re ruining _everything_!”

There was the sound of a heavy wooden chair scraping across the floor, teetering as it threatened to fall, and then King Nanase was steadying the chair that Queen Matsuoka had so rapidly ejected. The guards stood at attention but she ignored them all, striding up behind Gou and placing a hand on her shoulder. She whispered to the princess and Gou nodded, returning to the table with clenched fists.

“Rin Matsuoka,” she said, too loud, as if ensuring all in the room could clearly hear. “I don’t know _what_ you’re thinking, but your behavior is unseemly and unacceptable. Guards”—she whipped around, and every guard seemed to stand straighter—“bring him to the dungeon.” Rin sputtered a wordless reply and she added, “Your father would be ashamed.”

Makoto’s chair crashed to the floor as he finally stood upright, but few heard it amid the rising commotion. He leaned both hands on the table for support, fighting to project his voice over the others. “Please, you don’t—!”

“Makoto.” He shouldn’t have been able to hear Gou's soft voice over the cacophony, but he automatically looked down at her. “It’s fine.”

Two guards grabbed each of Rin’s arms, pulling them behind his back at unnatural angles. When he tried to wrestle free two more guards were on him, holding his shoulders as they jostled him out of the room.

And while King Nanase was on his feet trying to calm their guests, and Queen Matsuoka was smoothly returning to her chair, there was one person at the table who hadn’t moved at all—Haru, hand still poised with an absent spoon, staring at the double doors long after they closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell you how satisfying it was to have Gou slap her stupid brother.
> 
> (Chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/120796023338) on tumblr.)


	5. Chapter 5

There was one thing to say about Iawtobi Palace—it was clean, almost obsessively so. That included, Rin learned, the dungeon.

There was no damp mildew smell, nor rodents scurrying across his feet, so he could almost overlook how cramped his cell was. He wouldn’t be able to lie lengthwise across the floor without touching the opposite wall, even diagonally, not that he was deigned to try. It was enough to know there wasn’t adequate space to stretch out and sleep—if he was in there that long.

He ticked other positives off his fingers, if being locked in a dungeon could be considered positive: It was cool and dry. They allowed him to keep his clothes. He wasn’t chained to the wall.

He wiggled his ring finger, probing his mind for something else . . .

A door creaked from somewhere behind him. Rin refused to turn around and look, adamant to not give his visitor the satisfaction of his curiosity. The footsteps were dulled by the stone floor, and no shadow was cast in the dark of the dungeon. It wasn’t one of his family—their shoes would’ve clicked on the floor—and he wasn’t so confident that pampered Prince Nanase would make an appearance himself, to say nothing of his parents.

Rin scowled when his visitor came into view. The guard looked down his nose over the rim of his glasses, holding a tray too high for Rin to know what was on it.

“You’re lucky they’ve permitted you to eat,” Rei said.

Despite the churning in his stomach, he turned away. “I’m not hungry.”

There was a pause, and a slight ruffle of cloth as he crouched, and then the grating sound of metal on stone. Rei was pushing the tray through a small gap in the bars, painstakingly slowly, as if deliberately prolonging the ear-piercing shriek to further Rin’s punishment.

Rei stood up again, brushing nonexistent dirt off the front of his pants. Rin watched from his peripheral vision, how the guard adjusted his glasses. It was an effort not to meet his eyes, nor did he want to look at the food, so he continued to stare at the far corner of his cell.

“Will that be all?” Rin asked. He waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. “Get out of here.”

He didn’t immediately follow command. Though Rin was still turned away he tilted his chin up anyway, as if to prove something as trivial as a dungeon didn’t affect him. He sat with his forearms leaned against his spread knees, resenting only that his white robes were dusting the floor. It was too long before Rei departed with a sigh, and Rin waited until the stone door fell closed before turning to his dinner.

It was more bountiful than standard prison fare. Roasted meat and vegetables; a bowl of some green soup. They even provided him with utensils, though not the solid gold he’d seen at the engagement banquet. He pulled the tray closer, groaning as the scent of the meat finally reached his nose. The hard bread and berries he’d consumed at Nagisa’s hours prior had been less than substantial.

Rin slowly stirred the soup, then set down the spoon so gently that it didn’t clang on the metal tray. He grasped the fork in his fist and plunged it into the meat; it went clean through, dripping juices, and Rin sighed.

No key hidden away into his food. No co-conspirators scheming to get him out.

He shifted to the corner of the cell and stretched out his legs, the soles of his feet flush against the opposite corner. He balanced the tray on his thighs, saliva already pooling in his mouth, and figured he might as well eat.

 

* * *

 

Haru had never seen someone pace so rapidly. His head whipped back and forth, watching the trail of Gou’s robes flutter behind her every time she snapped around. The bed he sat upon was too high off the ground; he swung his legs like a child would, impatiently waiting for her next outburst. Over the bed was a portrait of his great-grandfather, and he wished his parents had provided the princess with a different guestroom. He resented the larger-than-life gaze of his ancestor, unwavering as it bore down on him.

“Gou, _please_.” Queen Matsuoka stood by the window, massaging the bridge of her nose. She’d stopped watching her daughter some time ago, claiming Gou gave her a headache.

“ _Idiot!_ ” It was the only conclusion Gou had come to thus far, uttering the words several times since watching her brother disappear in the grip of the guards. She yanked off her veil and tossed it to the bed. Haru looked down at his lap at the sheer fabric, doing nothing to stop it from sliding to the floor.

“Sit down,” Haru said. The words were more suggestion than command, but at least Gou stopped. She stared at Haru, as if she’d forgotten he was even there, then finally collapsed into an overstuffed chair in the corner.

Queen Matsuoka crossed her arms as she leaned against the wall. “If we had considered he’d be _stupid_ enough to—”

“He’s not stupid,” Haru blurted.

Gou was sudden composed, aimlessly picking at a bead on her sleeve while her mother crossed the room. Queen Matsuoka sat beside Haru— _her_ feet touched the floor—and took one of his hands in both of hers. Haru never felt slight or petite, but her hands seemed to engulf him. Despite the stagnant heat of the room, he didn’t mind the warmth.

“Of course he’s not stupid,” she said. “But he certainly tries a mother’s patience.”

“So, what now?” Gou leaned an elbow on the chair’s arm, propping her chin on a fist. “He’s just going to rot down there while his little sister _gets married_?” Haru involuntarily flinched, but if Gou noticed she didn’t make comment.

“What _else_ was I supposed to do with him?” Queen Matsuoka’s grip tightened around Haru’s hand; he didn’t have the strength nor desire to admit she was cutting off his circulation. “At least we know where he is while we come up with an alternative.”

Haru lifted his head, wiggling his fingers until she let up. His hand tingled as he flexed his fingers. He risked a glance at the portrait, though Queen Matsuoka’s head blocked most of it. But he could still see the bright blue eyes boring down on him. He turned away. “I have an idea.”

 

* * *

 

Rin awoke, but didn’t yet open his eyes.

He’d heard stories of people waking in unfamiliar areas, momentarily forgetting where they were. He wondered how that was possible—for in the moment his mind slipped back into consciousness, he knew his exact location. He knew exactly what he’d done to get there.

Further delaying the visual evidence was pointless, but for a moment he pretended it was easy to forget. That the stone he sat upon was one outside, under the moonlight. That there was an oasis at his feet, the water crawling up the shore as it reached for him.

And within the water . . .

He slowly opened his eyes, his heart stopping for a fraction of a second when he saw he wasn’t alone.

“You’re up,” Haru said.

He sat cross-legged against the opposite wall, still in his formal wear, though had removed the turban. His eyes may have been bloodshot, but it was difficult to tell in the dark of the dungeon. Only a single beam of moonlight stretched across the bowels of the palace, and it didn’t venture into his cell.

Haru pushed something closer to him, and Rin squinted at it. He recognized the sound of porcelain scraping over the stone before he realized what it was—a slice of cake.

Rin’s eye twitched. “Why the hell are you bringing me cake?”

Haru looked down at his lap. “Rei forgot it.”

“Never mind that.” He shook his head. “Why are you _here_?”

Haru blinked impassively. Even his infuriating silence was endearing, his eyes narrowed and his small mouth pursed like the question annoyed him. Like he was doing Rin some kind of _favor_ by bringing him dessert. “I live here,” he finally said.

“You know what I mean!”

Haru slid across the floor, his white robes picking up what little dust there was in the dungeon. He made a show of sweeping his eyes over Rin’s body—staring at the crotch before steadily crawling upward, up the exposed line of his chest and his clavicle, staring unblinking at his neck before shifting up to his eyes.

Rin swallowed around the swelling of his throat. It felt like longer than ten months since they’d sat this close, since he’s been the sole recipient of that piercing stare.

When Haru moved, he did nothing to stop it. Haru’s hand was on his chest; it was sliding beneath his robe, exposing one pale shoulder as the fabric fell away. His fingers trailed down Rin’s chest, snaked around to his hip, and rested there. When Haru leaned closer it was an automatic reaction for Rin to close his eyes, to stretch his neck out to meet him, to touch their lips together. Haru sighed, the same way he sighed when his dry body touched the water. Rin held his shoulders, fearing Haru would collapse beneath them, pressing closer as his tongue slipped between Haru’s lips.

Haru’s hands were on his back; Haru’s legs around his body; Haru’s chest flush against him. Rin was powerless to stop. He could stop _Haru_ by merely pushing him away, but he couldn’t control the reaction of his own body, grappling for hold on Haru’s robes and twining their bodies together.

When Haru pulled away, Rin gasped for air like he’d been drowning.

“You trust me,” Haru said. It wasn’t a question. Rin was panting, fists curled around the silks of Haru’s robe. He looked away, staring at the untouched slice of cake. “I trust _you_ ,” he went on. “Even if you didn’t come back.”

Rin flinched. “I _am_ back.”

“Why don’t you trust me?”

The banquet hall, all eyes on him, the dissonance of his laughter and their cries, the guards’ hands on him, four to hold him down. Rin touched a hand to his cheek; it still smarted.

“Eat your cake.” Haru rose too quickly, causing Rin to topple backward. He cradled the back of his head before it hit the solid stone wall.

“That’s it?” Rin rubbed the crown of his head. “‘Eat your cake’?”

Haru thrust a hand through the cell’s bars, and Rin hadn’t considered he’d locked them in until he procured a key. He made a show of it, slowing turning the key into the lock and then slipping out, dangling the key between his fingers before dropping the only means of escape into his pants pocket.

“How did you find the oasis?” Haru asked.

It was a small victory, but Rin smirked. He hadn’t yet readjusted his robe so he leaned back, watching Haru’s gaze drop to his exposed chest. “A prince has his secrets.”

Haru rolled his eyes. He took one last look at Rin, then the cake, and then turned for the exit.

He listened for the door closing shut and then touched his lips, allowing himself a moment to fantasize those fingers were Haru’s. His eyes fluttered and he leaned back against the wall, still feeling the imprint of his hands and his body. He shifted uncomfortably, groaning against the swell between his legs.

He stared at the cake. The cell was small enough that it took little effort to obtain; he only had to sit up to slide the plate closer. A gold fork was expertly angled on the plate, like someone had been fussing with it while he waited too long for a stubborn prince to wake up. Rin twirled the fork in his hand, and then raked the prongs across the frosting.

He told himself he only ate it because it was there, because he wasn’t sure when he would eat again, and not because Haru had delivered it personally. Not because he had any shred of hope or sentimentality, not because he plunged the fork into the cake expecting something.

But the fork didn’t cut all the way through, and there was no mistaking the grating _pang_ of metal on metal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _dun dun duuuuun_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/121121979468) on tumblr.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this chapter so quickly after the last, but I was halfway through the _next_ chapter when I decided it might be nice to share.

Princess Gou’s relief on his return was both unexpected and unnecessary. She pulled him into a suffocating hug before the door had fully closed behind him. Haru shot a pleading look to Queen Matsuoka but she only smirked, that hereditary smile far too familiar. He averted his eyes.

“ _Gods_.” Gou sniffled Haru’s shoulder before backing away. “What did you do, _seduce_ him? You smell like my brother!”

Haru frowned.

“Leave the poor boy alone,” Queen Matsuoka replied, nudging Gou out of the way. “They haven’t been alone in a long time.”

Gou crinkled her nose. “I do _not_ need to know that.”

“More important”—the queen grasped Haru by the shoulders—“did it work?”

 

* * *

 

_It was Haru’s parents who made a production of his birthday, but it wasn’t without reason—it was the last birthday he would still be their treasured child. He would soon be a man; by his next birthday, he would be married._

_Haru was inclined to refuse the fancy dinner, but the king and queen had invited only those he was close to. Makoto, who had just taken over his father’s shop; Nagisa, the wandering fortune teller; Queen Matsuoka and her children._

_At the close of the festivities, Haru retired to his chambers with a full stomach and a head pounding with conversation and live music. He’d hardly closed the door before there was a scratching at the wall, and then the passageway door beside his bed slid open._

_“No one saw you,” Haru said, easing off his turban. He shook out his hair._

 

* * *

 

“If _someone_ doesn’t find Prince Haruka,” the king growled, “I will have you _all_ beheaded.”

In the flurry of guards in the throne room, the king and queen failed to notice that the new recruit was missing.

 

* * *

 

_Rin came up behind him, wrapping both arms around his waist. His fingertips slid into the waistband of Haru’s pants, and Haru shivered. “I’m staying with Makoto, of course.”_

_Haru pressed back against him. “I owe him too many favors.”_

_“Not on your birthday.” Rin pressed his lips to the side of his neck. “Let me help you out of these clothes.”_

_There was something to be said for silk, how it effortlessly slid off the body. How his scarves and his pants pooled at their feet, the expensive raiment kicked aside. Haru raised his arms, letting out a breath as Rin wiggled off his shirt. The balcony door was open, and the hot June breeze brought little relief. But while his skin was slick with sweat, the faint hair on his back stood on end when Rin trailed a finger down his spine._

_Haru spun around and ungraciously tore off Rin’s clothing, all at once embarrassed for being the only one in the nude. He pressed both hands to Rin’s back, desiring that warm, sweat-damp skin against his body._

_“You’re marrying my sister.” Rin murmured against Haru’s neck._

_Haru cupped his backside, squeezing lightly as Rin twined a leg around him. “Don’t think about that.”_

 

* * *

 

Rin’s palm was sticky with frosting as he pressed it to the door. The dungeon’s exit was impenetrable to sound, so there was no easy way to discover whether anyone was manning it—besides opening it.

The door should have been locked from the outside. He wrapping his hand around its grooved handle and tugged, both praying for no resistance and also wishing for it. The key-hidden-in-his-food was the oldest and most ridiculous trick in the book. For when the prisoner escaped from his cell, where was he to go next? Haru had been vague as always, but his words grated in Rin’s mind.

_Why don’t you trust me?_

The door slid open a fraction, and he let out a breath not unlike the _whoosh_ of air through the crack. He listened for footsteps, for a yawn, for _anything_ that said the door was being guarded.

Instead, he heard a whisper: “Hurry to the end of the passageway.”

 _Rei_.

Rin was immobilized, his palms sweating. He couldn’t see the guard, but knew he stood right beside the dungeon’s door. “If you’ve come this far,” Rei continued, “then your desire to escape already supersedes your submission to the law. So _go_.”

The door suddenly swung inward and Rin was thrown back, righting himself at the last second before he toppled to the floor. The doorway was empty, save for the hand extended from an unseen body that had just thrust it wide open.

He muttered a “thank you” in passing, but couldn’t know whether Rei heard as he began to run down the seemingly endless hallway.

 

* * *

 

_The room was sweltering with summer heat. Haru refused to hide beneath the blanket, not that Rin argued—they were already warm enough with the hot breeze, their bodies sticking to each other as they rolled over the expanse of the bed. Haru lay on his back, watching as Rin draped one leg over him to straddle his hips. He kissed Haru’s collarbone, then licked a trickle of sweat off his neck._

_“Rin”—Haru gripped the backs of his thighs—“what if . . .”_

_Rin threaded his fingers through Haru’s hair. “Hmm?”_

_“Paradise.”_

_He stopped mid-kiss, lips brushing Haru’s pulse point. “Eh?”_

_“If we found it.” Haru jerked his hips up, his erection prodding Rin’s backside. “Then I won’t have to get married.”_

_They sat up and faced each other, legs wrapped around the other’s body. Rin brushed the fringe away from Haru’s eyes to press a kiss to his forehead. “I thought we weren’t thinking about that.”_

* * *

 

The palace basement was dark and cavernous, which worked in his favor—guards wore thick-soled shoes, which slapped and echoed on the stone floor. He stopped, pressing himself against the wall when he heard the slap of those shoes, but the sound receded away from him. He let out a breath and continued his rush toward the end of the hall.

Someone stood at the corner, but Rin was far from worried—he may have only seen his friend’s overgrown figure in the dark of night, but even with his disguise as a guard he’d recognize Makoto anywhere.

Makoto turned his head a fraction, enough to see Rin from his peripheral vision without looking away from the hallway. His nod was a jerky movement, like his entire body was shaking along with it. “Wait,” he whispered, and Rin stood behind him, flush against the wall.

Then, footsteps, again. Makoto watched someone pass, then let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Turn left,” Makoto whispered, “then you’ll see a gate on your right.” He paused to tug on his shirt collar. “It will lock behind you.”

Rin squeezed Makoto’s shoulder in reply, holding on until he felt the ease of Makoto’s muscles. “I don’t know what that crazy fool has planned,” Rin whispered, “but I feel all right if you’re a part of it.”

Makoto still stared at the opposite wall, unmoving. “Go now.”

Rin gathered up his robes and checked down the hall, though he knew Makoto had it covered. In his hesitation, he risked a look at the man who played palace guard. He stood with his shoulders thrown back, his arms straight at his sides. If Rin hadn’t learned of his nervous nature years ago, he’d say he was born for the roll.

“Hey,” Rin said. Makoto’s eyes nervously flitted toward him. “Thanks for the water.”

His mouth twitched into a smile.

* * *

 

_Each time Rin explored Haru’s body felt like the first. He watched his own hands as they kneaded Haru’s skin, as they slowly dipped between Haru’s legs. Haru tilted his head back to receive Rin’s lips on his neck, the skin stretched taught as his tongue glided up to his chin. He kissed along Haru’s jaw, up to his ear to suck on the lobe. Haru stifled his groan against Rin’s shoulder, holding tight around his back as Rin stroked him._

_“I love you, Haru.” Rin’s thumb drew circles on the tip of his cock. “Don’t forget that.”_

_He closed his eyes as Rin breathed words into his ear, promises of love and eternity as he worked the sensitive flesh between his legs. Haru went lightheaded with the sudden rush of blood to his groin, thrusting into Rin’s willing hands. He wasn’t breathing hard enough that it should drown out the sounds of the room, not the snap of the curtains in a gust of wind nor the heavy creak of a door opening.  He shuddered with a muffled cry, clawing at Rin’s back as he spilled into his hand._

_Someone cleared her throat. “Are you quite finished?”_

 

* * *

 

The longer Haru hid behind the curtain, the more he thought his presence would be detected. The curtain wasn’t thick. But the hallway was lit only by the orange glow of the setting sun which, he was relieved to note, did not penetrate the window he was hiding beside.

“It’s so _awful_ ,” Gou was saying, a stone’s throw away. “My fiancé was so _upset_ by my brother’s behavior. It’s no wonder he wants to be alone right now!”

“The prince is _missing_ , princess.”

“Oh, please find him!” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “I already miss him terribly.”

The guard thanked her, and then his footsteps echoed down the hallway, and then Gou was peeking behind the curtain. “Let’s _go_ ,” she hissed. “This is _torture_.”

Haru didn’t argue when she grabbed his wrist, though wish he had when she started dragging him down the hallway. “Stop telling them to find me,” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder.

“Are you kidding?” She pulled him sharply around a corner; Haru skittered around the bend and stumbled to match her pace. “I’m the distraught princess. I have a role to play.”

* * *

 

_Rin jerked to attention first, skittering to the edge of the bed, arms flailing as he tipped back and tumbled to the floor. Haru covered both hands over his crotch, staring at his mother in the doorway. The gift she balanced on her palms was expertly wrapped in shimmering white gauze, the kind often used in decorations and robes for wedding ceremonies._

_“Y-Your Majesty.” Only Rin’s head visible over the edge of the bed._

_“Prince Matsuoka.” Her steps were slow as she approached, her face impassive save the twitch in her eyelid. “You are dismissed.” The chamber door had been left open and Haru was suddenly cold, shrinking into himself as he hugged his knees. Rin scrabbled at the mixed pile of clothing to knot something haphazardly around his body. “And,” she added, as he clumsily knotted a sash around his waist, “you are hereby prohibited from Iwatobi’s lands.”_

 

* * *

 

There was more than one gate.

Makoto was too far down the hallway to see his face, but Rin thought it was better that way. The crease between his brows deepened as he frowned. The gate would be unlocked, but Rin had little interest in rattling the bars and making a racket to find the right one. Nor was he interested in bending at the waist as he walked the hall to stare at the locks, like he was forced to do, as if bowing to his potential escape route.

He heard footsteps and quickly fell into a crouch, hoping whoever approached wouldn’t think to look down. A guard rushed past in the distance, but didn’t turn down his hallway. Rin leaned his forehead to the wall, a fleeting moment of relief.

He rose quickly, turning to the next gate, and then saw it—it wasn’t the unclasped lock that grabbed his attention, but the fluttering paper beyond it. He’d never seen this particular drawing but he recognized the yellowed paper, and he knew first-hand the stylistic stroke of its artist. He eased the gate open and slipped inside, the _click_ of the lock echoing in the desolate hallway.

A sketch of the oasis, glittering under the full moon. In reality there were more trees surrounding it, but Rin preferred this interpretation—beauty in its exposure, serenity in the stillness of the water. The sky was dotted with stars, two of which were larger and more prominent than the others.

Rin grinned, then bolted up the stairs.

 

* * *

 

_“Guards!”_

_Queen Nanase had seized Rin’s shoulder, jostling him up to standing. The blue robe did little to conceal him, too sheer without its bounty of layers beneath it. Rin grabbed the knot at his waist in desperate attempt that it remain knotted._

_“Haru!” he wailed. He struggled in the queen’s grip, and she only dug her nails in deeper._

_“Moth—“ Haru coughed, wiping the corner of his eye with a fist. “Mother, don’t—” Guards began to spill into his chamber._

_“Do not ruin your future, Haruka.” She didn’t raise her voice; she didn’t look at her son. She preferred watching one guard jerk Rin’s arms behind his back, preferred witnessing Rin’s soundless cry as another kneed him in the stomach._

_Queen Nanase’s gaze fell to the gift that still sat on the bed, untouched. “Your wedding robes,” she said to Haru. “I’ve looked forward to presenting them to you on your birthday.”_

* * *

 

The sun was taking its time setting. Haru stood with his back against the exterior wall, as if that could minimize his presence. He watched Gou skitter around the patio, peering around corners and parting bushes to see beyond them. There were already scratches up her arms, thorns catching on her expensive robes and her hair.

“Quickly,” she hissed, waving him over. Haru kept near the fence as he rushed toward her, crouched low to remain hidden. He dropped to his knees beside her, panting like he’d run across the whole of Iwatobi.

There was a guard approaching the patio. Haru forced himself to watch, even if he preferred to close his eyes and ignore the potential danger. He silently prayed for the man to cut across to the side of the palace but his figure grew steadily larger, his bayonet poised for attack.

“Quick!” Gou whispered. “In the bushes.” She didn’t give him a chance to reply before she was pushing him into the shrubbery, branches and thorns leaving deep scratches in his arms. He curled into a ball as Gou ran off the patio.

“Oh thank goodness, you’re here!” She gathered up her robes and rushed toward the guard, her heels clicking on the path. Haru peered through the leaves to watch. “Have you seen my mother? I’m so scared . . . I don’t want to be alone . . .”

But from behind him was the driving thud of thick-soled shoes, and then the sharp point of a bayonet on his back.

 

* * *

 

_It wasn’t until Rin had disappeared into the hall that Haru launched off the bed, pulling a swath of silk from the floor to knot around his waist. It was red, not something that came from his own closet._

_“Rin!”_

_He couldn’t remember pushing past his mother but he was in the hallway, watching Rin dig his heels into the floor in resistance. Haru ran after him but didn’t notice the guard that had followed him out, hardly even felt the way his arm jerked back hard enough to pop the shoulder from its socket._

_“Rin!”_

* * *

 

“What do you mean, the prisoner is _missing_?” King Nanase rose from the throne. “You will _find_ him. You will find _both_ of them.”

* * *

 

_Rin craned his neck to look behind him as he was shoved down the hall, farther and farther away from Haru’s chambers. “I’m coming back!” he shouted, his cheeks shining with tears. “I love you, Haru! I’m coming back!”_

 

* * *

 

It was a small miracle that Rin encountered no guards on his way to the oasis. He’d found his own path on his first visit, but Haru’s was easier. It was like he’d followed Haru’s scent; he knew exactly where to push through the foliage, knew exactly which way to turn to find the water. He could smell it in the air, wrapping him in its embrace. The oasis was more beautiful than he remembered—it was cast in a twilit glow, the water smooth and undisturbed.

“Haru?”

Rin was overconscious of his steps, his body heavy with fatigue and the thrill of escape. He clutched Haru’s sketch in his hand, comparing it to the scene before him. He wondered if the sketch had been the oasis’s birth, or whether it was another of Haru’s fantasies. He looked up, his view blocked by a canopy of trees.

“Hey, Haru.”

He started at the perch where Haru’s clothes had been folded before, now empty. He stared at the calm water. He looked behind him, in the direction from which he came, the leaves settled and still after his hasty passage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/121298294243) on tumblr.)


	7. Chapter 7

“Look, Rei-chan! A shooting star!”

Nagisa pointed up to the sky, though Rei had been watching it as well. They tilted their heads back at the same time, following the trajectory of the star until it sank down behind the horizon.

“It’s said that if you wish upon falling stars,” Rei said, “your desires will come true.”

Nagisa smiled as he leaned back on his hands, digging the heels into the sand. “People say many things that aren’t true.”

They weren’t alone. Many of Iwatobi’s people were dotted along the desert outskirts, staring up at the first cloudless sky in weeks. The stars were always brighter in the desert, and in its clarity the night sky revealed more than simply stars—it burst with color, the deep blues and violets of ethereal clouds and worlds beyond their own. On Earth, the idle chatter and prayers of the common folk swirled around them in murmurings and incense. Most of the scents were familiar to Iwatobi, some imported from lands beyond the desert.

Rei uncrossed his legs to stretch them out, uncommonly relaxed under the waning heat and commotion of the day. “How did you get involved with them?” he asked, as vague as possible. He still wore part of his guard’s attire, the recognition that he belonged to the palace, and preferred not to be overheard gossiping about the prince.

Nagisa didn’t turn to him, as if staring at the sky implied that their secrets could be kept between them. But he smiled and wiggled closer to Rei. “Rin-chan found me,” he whispered. “Iwatobi was fun for him to explore. And I”—his shoulders rounded as he muffled a giggle—“was a street urchin. He liked hearing his fortune, because I didn’t say what other fortune tellers would say.”

Rei hesitated, waiting for him to go on, but had known Nagisa long enough to understand he wouldn’t elaborate without being prodded. The fortune teller enjoyed the thrill of the game, and Rei was willing to indulge him—most of the time. “What _did_ you tell him?”

Nagisa swept an arm across the sky, as if the stars themselves provided all the answers. “That his path to true romance would face trials, but he would find a love deeper than the fabled seas.”

Rei lifted an eyebrow. “You said all that as a child?”

Nagisa lay back on the sand and stretched his arms above. His hands curled around the moon, like he consulted the crystal ball. “Fortune tellers tell no lies.”

Rei smiled as he looked back up to the distant sky. “I am disinclined to believe you.”

The higher the moon rose, the colder the desert wind. The outskirts were slowly emptying, people returning to the warmth and comfort of their homes. Nagisa crossed his arms to fight off a chill. “It came true, didn’t it?”

 

* * *

 

The smashed slice of cake was still in the dungeon cell.

Haru sat cross-legged against the opposite wall, staring at it, mourning the sad defeat of perfectly good cake. But it had served its purpose—the cake was still here, and Rin was not.

He leaned back, lightly tapping his head against the wall. The guards were still rushing around the palace, most of them on dungeon level in search of the escaped prisoner. Haru’s expression remained neutral, but resisted the urge to smile every time someone hurried past his cell. The prisoner hadn’t been found. He must have escaped.

The irony of his chosen dungeon cell wasn’t lost, nor the presence of the cake. The king and queen believed that he hadn’t been the one to deliver it; Prince Haruka would never outwardly defy his parents, not after the previous “situation” with the prince of Samezuka. But he said not a word to their line of questioning, vowing silence to himself and to Rin—How did Prince Matsuoka escape? Who delivered the dungeon key? What were _you_ doing hiding on the patio?

He couldn’t say he’d ever been locked in his own dungeon.

He’d been so accustomed to listening for the guard’s footsteps that he didn’t notice the barefoot shuffle against stone, and he sat up straighter when Gou materialized on the other side of his cell. She pressed a finger to her lips as she sank into a crouch. Haru scooted closer so they were nearly nose to nose.

“He made it,” she whispered, and Haru’s shoulders visibly eased. “Nagisa watched him go.”

Haru nodded. He could suffer his own punishment, but Rin was safe.

“Mother is going to find him. Haru . . .” She chewed her bottom lip, the nervous habit an oddity for her. “You should be with him. I’m sorry it didn’t work.”

Haru shook his head. “Look.” He pointed to the rear of the cell, though in the dark of night they could hardly even see right in front of them. Gou squinted, then shook her head, and Haru reached back and wrapped his hand around the sticky metal. He cupped the key in both hands, holding it out like an offering. “He must’ve thrown it back in.”

Her lack of relief was concerning. Gou reached through the bars, closing the cup of Haru’s hands to hide the key within. Her hands were cold, and he felt their slight trembling. “There are too many guards now.” The words alone acted like a summoning agent; she stood quickly, crossing her arms as someone came around the bend. The guard paused, but her face had already turned into a frown as she stared down at Haru. The prince stared at his clasped hands, waiting for the guard to pass.

Gou crouched again once he was gone.

“We have another idea, but . . . you won’t like it.” She grimaced, anticipating his disapproval.

Haru tossed the key back into the depths of the cell. He wiped his hands on his robes, waiting. Staring. Listening to the distant sound of guards’ feet, wondering when they would stop disturbing his thoughts.

Gou looked behind her, though the lack of approaching footsteps proved they were already alone. She leaned closer to the cell. “We have to get married as planned. And”—she looked away—“I need an heir.”

 

* * *

 

“They have to _what?!_ ”

Queen Matsuoka clamped a hand over her son’s mouth. Birds twittered in escape from the outburst, the leaves rustling in their wake. Rin sputtered muffled curses against her hand, and she didn’t let go until he’d calmed to silence.

“Are you done?” she asked, hand still raised before his mouth in both preparation and as a warning.

Instead, Rin slumped down to a rock. He refused to look at his mother, despite her standing directly in front of him. He stared at the water, like he still waited for Haru to pop up from beneath its surface. Like it had all been an elaborate joke. He looked out past the water to the opposite shore, wondering if there was a path through that dense foliage, too. Haru’s instructions may have been vague, but he must know—the oasis couldn’t have been their final destination. There must have been more.

But now, according to the Queen of Samezuka, Haru was receiving his own punishment.

Rin’s chin trembled, and all at once his mother dropped her unsympathetic act and was sitting right beside him.

“T-They can’t,” he whispered, staring at the ground between his feet. She put her arm around him, forcing his head down onto her shoulder. He winced; her shoulder was too bony to be a comfort, but Rin pressed his face into it anyway as his back heaved with sobs. “I— I love him, Mama.”

Her fingers twined through his hair, a gesture she’d employed in his youth but he’d resisted as he grew up. He didn’t need her; he was a grown man. Future king of Samezuka. “I know, baby.” Her shoulder was damp with tears, soaked through to the skin. “But Rin, you have to listen to me.” He didn’t lift his head, but he nodded. “You have to go home. It’s too dangerous here and I can’t risk losing you, too.”

He swiped a hand across his cheek but the tears were flowing faster now. He pressed his face to his mother’s shoulder again, prolonging the moment he would travel back to his homeland.

“I don’t care if they get married.” His voice cracked. “It won’t mean anything. But please, Mama”—he hiccupped—“I couldn’t live if they had a baby. _Please_.”

She wrapped both arms around his shoulders, rocking him like a child as the wildlife hushed around them. “All right,” she whispered, then kissed the top of his head. “All right. We’ll think of something.”

 

* * *

 

Makoto had been so exhausted when he’d fallen asleep that, when his eyes opened again, he anticipated the streaming sunlight through the front window. But there was nothing—no light, no early-morning bustle on the sidewalk. He sat up, wrapped a dressing gown around himself, and stepped outside.

The moon was high overhead; it seemed impossible that he’d slept only a couple hours. A cat slunk by his door, meowing as it twined around Makoto’s ankles. He crouched to scratch it behind the ears.

“Mako-chan!”

He stood up with a start, recognizing the voice but not expecting to hear anyone at this time of night. Nagisa jogged up to him, and Makoto wasn’t surprised that he was accompanied by Rei. Though Nagisa smiled, Rei was not as skilled at hiding his panic.

Makoto waved them both inside and closed the door.

Rei stood at attention like he addressed the king of Iwatobi himself, not a common merchant. “The prisoner has escaped,” he said, an irony in the pride of the guard’s voice. “However . . .”

Nagisa finished for him. “They found Haru-chan.”

Makoto covered his face with both hands and slumped to the wall. Not that he’d understood Haru’s elaborate plot—for when they escaped to the oasis, where would they go after? They would reunite but the night wasn’t endless; the sun would rise again.

“Don’t worry, Mako-chan!” Nagisa pried Makoto’s hands away from his face. “We’ll think of a new plan.”

“Please,” Makoto groaned, “no more plans.”

He pictured Haru sitting in his jail cell, his throat dry with the inadequate rations of a prisoner. He slowly turned to the window, lifting the curtain just enough to peek outside. The street was dark; a beggar was groaning somewhere down the street. He let the curtain fall and then stared at his merchant’s attire hanging on a hook. He took them down, running his fingers along the hem of the expensive fabric. The ornaments on the black-and-white wrap jangled in his hands.

“Mako-chan,” Nagisa whispered, stepping closer. “You know where to find the oasis, don’t you?”

Rei scoffed. “Nagisa, _please_. The oasis is nothing more than—”

“Yes.” The garments slipped from his hands, tumbling into a pile at his feet. “I-It’s been a long time, but I remember.”

 

* * *

 

The smashed cake was gone in the morning, and Haru found himself curled beneath a plush blanket. Soon the heat would be upon him, but he didn’t move. The stone floor was still cool, and if he shifted at all he would never be able to retrace his steps to the point where he wasn’t dripping in sweat.

His turban had fallen off during the night, but beneath the blanket he still wore his formal robes. He listened to the distant creak of the dungeon door, and he lifted his eyes to Queen Nanase standing outside his cell.

“We’ve moved the wedding to today,” she said, crossing her arms. Haru blinked at her, unmoving, the blanket tucked up to cover half his face. “I’ve come to help you get ready.”

A key dangled from a chain at her wrist, taunting him. He curled himself tighter, until only the top of his head was visible from beneath the blanket. His mother sighed, and then he listened to the heavy _click_ of the cell unlocking. “Come, Haruka.”

“Where’s Makoto?” His voice was muffled in the blanket.

“He won’t be aiding you today.” The cell door creaked open. “Where is he, Haruka?”

He didn’t answer.

“You had no business sneaking around that late at night. What was your plan? Did you think you could run away together? Or that we would never find you?”

He squeezed his hands into fists, his palms sweating.

“You are of the line of Nanase, from the first settlers of Iwatobi. It is your duty to rise to king to this land, and to produce heirs so it may thrive when you pass into the next realm. It is what your father and I have done, and his parents before us.”

Haru mumbled into the blanket.

“What was that?”

He sat up and threw the blanket off. Queen Nanase nearly stumbled backward, righting herself against the swinging metal gate to regain her composure. When Haru rose, he was taller than she. It was a small satisfaction to look down at his mother, though her steely gaze wouldn’t be deterred. “I don’t want it,” he replied. “I’ve never wanted to become king.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Is this so you can fool around with Prince Matsuoka? So you can sully the Nanase name?”

When Haru matched her glare, she faltered briefly. For a moment he wondered if her fear had actually happened, for her face quickly regained its customary sharp indifference. “I do not love the princess.”

Queen Nanase snorted, then covered her mouth after such an unseemly action. “You will love your country, and then you will love your children for the sake of its future. There will be no need for romantic affection.”

“Queen Matsuoka loved her husband.”

His mother nudged him aside to close the cell door, and he shrank away from that slight touch of her fingertips. _Love your children_. He turned for the exit.

“Samezuka is a backward land,” she called after him, “that produces perverted sons. We are doing the princess a favor by relieving her of it.”

The only satisfaction in punching the wall was the collapse of his mother’s cool demeanor. She screamed when his knuckles made contact with the solid stone; the flame of pain licked up his arm, consuming him to the shoulder. The blood dripped from his still-clenched fist as Queen Nanase hurried over, but when she tried to grasp Haru’s hand he lurched back and wrapped his fist in his pristine formal robes.

His face remained impassive, save the fire that now burned in his eyes. His voice was even as he spoke. “I am not getting married.” He was not followed when he strode out of the dungeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I originally made Haru and Makoto distantly related (like, great6-grandparents related) but then decided it did nothing for the story so I took it out. We can still believe the Tachibanas are an offshoot of the great Nanase family, right? (Why _else_ would the royal family give so much work to a "common merchant"?)
> 
> (chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/121692668853) on tumblr.)


	8. Chapter 8

The disguise was the clothes of a common woman. Rin stared at the oasis as Makoto fitted the robes on him, memorizing the water before him. Remembering how he’d snuck up on Haru while he was swimming, wishing now that he’d watched when Haru had emerged naked like a goddess. The sketch was folded and tucked away in a satchel, one that Rei had stuffed full with provisions. Nagisa was kneeling at the water, filling as many waterskins as they owned.

Makoto stood before him, admiring his handiwork, and sighed. “Just don’t smile,” he pleaded.

“What happened to your teeth, anyway?” Nagisa asked, craning his neck around.

Rin covered his mouth with both hands. “It’s hereditary!”

There was a low groan from behind him; Rin had already forgotten about the camels. He wanted to ask _how_ they all maneuvered the beasts into the thick of the oasis, but he was about to learn for himself soon enough.

“I have to say,” Makoto said, stroking his chin, “you make a convincing woman.”

Rin batted his eyes. “Will Prince Haruka think I’m pretty?”

“That’s enough out of you.” Queen Matsuoka nudged his shoulder, then pressed the hand-drawn map into his hands. They’d reviewed the route earier, once the queen had remembered it—past the oasis, then over the endless sands, to a land his father had visited years before.

Rin was not to go home. His hands shook as he folded the map, tucking it into the satchel beside Haru’s sketch.

Nagisa was first to scramble onto a camel, the animal unperturbed. He stroked its head, whispering secrets into its ear. Rei required help; Makoto made a bridge of his hands to hoist him up, and his beast moaned in disapproval until Makoto fed him a handful of dates.

Rin stood face to face with Queen Matusoka, the resemblance all the more obvious in his female robes. She smiled, tucked a wayward strand of hair into his veil, then kissed his forehead. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispered. The others looked away, pretending they couldn’t hear.

When Rin hugged his mother, he was glad that Makoto had opted against him wearing makeup. He wasn’t skilled in applying kohl and the tears would’ve left thick, dark streaks down his face. When they broke apart he swiftly turned away, then mounted his camel in one smooth motion. He patted the waterskin that was hidden beneath his robes. “Let’s go,” he said, gently tugging on the reins.

Nagisa whopped in glee as they steered their camels around the oasis, and Rei waved over his shoulder in parting. Rin stared straight ahead, not wanting to turn around to see Makoto’s comforting arm around his mother’s shoulders.

 

* * *

 

No one was inclined to follow Prince Haruka as he strode down the grand hall, dripping blood. He enjoyed the symbolism—the marble and sapphire of Iwatobi palace stained red, soiled by his own hand. It looked like he had been stabbed, with the front of his formal robes stiff with drying blood. Haru kept his head high as he strode to his chambers, locking himself in to get dressed.

Makoto was already there. His eyes widened at the blood, but rushed into action to dress the prince’s wound. He’d already laid out Haru’s preferred outfit—the short black top; the billowing black pants. After his hand was wrapped in thick gauze Makoto moved to help him out of his formal wear, but Haru shook his head. He’d do it himself.

But Makoto wouldn’t be deterred. He kept himself busy—he’d filled the waterskins; he’d packed a satchel full of dried meats and fruits. The balcony doors had been thrown open, and Haru stepped out for one final look at Iwatobi. But before he looked down at his parents’ lands, he noticed the parchment paper and pencils on the low table.

Makoto came up behind him. “In case you want to remember it.”

Haru looked over the balcony, and then down at the paper. He nodded, then sat at the table.

Makoto fussed in his quarters as he tried to hold the pencil in his injured hand. There wasn’t anything he wanted to bring—nothing of his lineage; no proof to his denial of it. Below, he could see people begin to file into the palace for the wedding. He wondered when his parents would tell their guests that it wouldn’t be happening. Probably not until they’d presented their gifts, waiting for the prince to appear to accept his bride.

“Where is Gou?” Haru asked, as he shaded a low building.

“She’s with her mother.” Makoto stood at the open balcony doors. “They’re going to pretend it’s still happening, until everyone realizes it isn’t.”

“How long do we have?”

Makoto squinted up at the sun, and then down at the trickle of visitors entering the palace. “About an hour.”

The sketch would remain incomplete. Haru preferred it that way as he folded the parchment, remembering only his favorite parts of the land that was meant to be his. Makoto set an old metal box on the table—the one that, long ago, had hailed from Samezuka.

“What are you doing with that?” Haru asked, as Makoto wiggled the lid open. He gently took the new sketch from the prince’s hands and pressed it inside.

“You drew these so you wouldn’t forget,” he replied, pressing down the lid to close the latch. He set the box on Haru's lap.

Haru couldn’t see the side courtyard from where he sat, and its lush vegetation prevented outsiders from seeing it, too. All he needed was there—his prepared camel, packed with his meager belongings for the journey. Haru rose and hurried inside before anyone from below could see him, cradling the metal box to his chest.

Makoto stood against the wall with his arms crossed, watching as Haru bound his head in a turban. “I’m sorry the original plan didn’t work,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Haru replied. “We’ll still be together.”

“I just feel bad for Queen Matsuoka.”

Haru wrapped a scarf around his mouth. “She’ll know where to find us.”

 

* * *

 

_Since the engagement announcement, Queen Matsuoka and the princess had called on Iwatobi many times. King and Queen Nanase were pleased with their numerous visits and Haru’s acceptance of his future family. In the beginning the chaperones accompanied each of their walks, ensuring conversation was proper and the young couple did not stand too close. Over time, the role had been passed to the princess’s mother instead, which was suitable to the king and queen. After all, no one but a lady’s mother could ensure proper behavior between her daughter and a man, even if that man was her betrothed._

_Haru sat around a table in the courtyard with the queen and princess, the women deliberately smiling too much. Though there were no other people in close proximity, they were still being watched from the palace windows and the courtyard’s perimeter. From a distance, Queen Matsuoka’s elaborate gestures and smiles would be the only proof needed that they were having an appropriate and suitable conversation._

_“I can’t call it off?” Haru asked._

_Queen Matsuoka continued to smile as she shook her head, as if she were teasing her future son-in-law. “It’s an arranged marriage, Haru. If not Gou, then you would be paired with someone else.” She leaned closer to the center of the table. “And_ we _are your only way to Rin.”_

_“It’s a perfect plan,” Gou added._

_Haru slowly nodded, still digesting the elaborate plot. “What happens when I don’t come home from the honeymoon?”_

_This time, Queen Matsuoka’s laugh was genuine. “You’ll have at least a two-week head start before they notice. You’ll visit Samezuka soon to study my husband’s travel notes. We’ll find a location where you’ll never be found.”_

_“And my friends?” He turned to Gou. “And you?”_

_Gou was pretty when she smiled, and for a moment Haru felt bad that she wouldn’t be his queen. She would make a good ruler, and Haru could be happy with her. Not love, but contentment. “Bring whoever you want,” she said. “You’ll live your own life!”_

_Haru forced a smile for their potential spectators, looking back and forth between mother and daughter. Rin had inherited much of the queen’s features, down to the sharp angle of his jaw and the slim line of his nose. He tried not to think about Rin brooding in Samezuka’s palace, believing Haru was to marry his sister. Believing that he’d lose them both in one night, joined together to continue the royal Nanase line. His heart pounded, the blood rushing to his head in the acknowledgement that everything would soon change, and not in the manner that Rin currently believed._

_He nodded. “I want our friends with us.”_

_“There is one thing,” Queen Matsuoka added. “Rin mustn’t know. In fact, your interactions before the wedding must be limited. He’s . . . unskilled in the matter of secrets.”_

_Gou chortled. “He’d ruin everything,” she said, and Haru couldn’t disagree._

* * *

 

Makoto had to attend the wedding ceremony. Haru was left in his room, the door to the secret passageway open as he took one last look at his royal quarters.

They were elaborate. He’d never paid much attention to the tapestries or the plush carpeting. He didn’t care for the four-poster bed and had no need for the closet the size of a small room, nor most of the attire within in. He might miss the balcony, for he enjoyed looking over Iwatobi, but there would be a new land to learn. A city beyond Iwatobi, beyond Samezuka, where the water flowed from faucets and he could own his own vessel large enough to swim in—large enough for two, with room to spare.

He backed into the passageway, carefully sliding the door closed with his bandaged hand. It was dark as he descended the stairs, but he’d taken the trip so many times that he knew when he reached the bottom. The outer door was already cracked open from when Makoto had snuck in, deliberately leaving it open for a hasty exit.

But Haru didn’t rush. He pulled a small handful of dates from his satchel and fed it to the camel. The animal was draped in bags and waterskins, and a small tapestry lay over the hump for him to sit. Haru hoisted himself up, wiggling in his seat to get comfortable.

Queen Matsuoka waited for him by the courtyard’s back exit.

“Gou is at the rear entrance. No one questioned the ladies’ needs to get some air before the ceremony.” She grinned, her teeth white and sharp. “There’s a path around the oasis. You can see your precious water one last time.” Haru frowned, but then she reached up to cup his face in both hands. “Safe travels, my son.” She stood on her toes, and Haru leaned over for her to kiss his cheeks.

When he sat up, he tucked his hair into his turban to hide the furious blush across his cheeks. But when he met her eyes again, he was surprised by the tears that had gathered in the corners. Perhaps that, too, was hereditary. “Thank you,” he said. His voice was firmer than he thought it could be.

It wasn’t a mere “thank you” for safe travels, nor for her elaborate plans. It wasn’t simply a “thank you” for her support and acceptance. It left his throat raw and a sting behind his eyes.

She gently patted then camel’s rump. “Get out of here,” she said. “You know how impatient Rin can be.”

 

* * *

 

He had never been beyond the oasis. He had no reason to, not when all he wanted was hidden in that refuge behind his home—his solitude, his water. Haru was true to his word and didn’t stop when he reached it. He looked around as the camel trudged through the wet sand, understanding all at once that there was more beyond the oasis. There were lands he’d only heard of from Rin secondhand, stories passed down from the late King Matsuoka. There were oceans that stretched to the horizon. There were lands with rain and humidity, and lands so cold that water froze on the ground. There were buildings that touched the sky, and people who lived in caves within the earth. There were different languages, and different skin tones, and different cultures.

The camel stomped when they reached dry ground again, kicking the wet, caked sand off its hooves. Haru looked over his shoulder. The pool looked different from the opposite side, but it didn’t lessen his desire for one last swim.

He faced forward again as the camel began to cut through the foliage.

There would be more water.

There would be Rin.

Someone had left markers to designate the way out, shreds of blue ribbon tied to high branches. He wanted to remove them as he passed, but there were still more of their party to follow. Makoto would erase all evidence when he passed through with Gou, though they knew not how long that would be. There would be search parties for him. There would be comforting the bride abandoned at the altar. There would be secret meetings in the dead of night as they planned their escape.

He narrowed in on each of the blue ribbons as he traveled through the thick of the woods, like they were shining beacons guiding him home. But then, they stopped. He knew they would; Queen Matsuoka had said as much. But he was unprepared for what came next: the farthest reach of Iwatobi, and stepping over its outer border.

The camel shook its head in its first step onto the dry desert. Haru gently tugged on the reins to stop it, just for a moment, and to take a sip from a waterskin. He’d hoped to see footprints in the sand, or any evidence of Rin’s passing, but the desert wind had already erased his presence.

Iwatobi was a land in the desert. Its streets were swept with sand, and its people were often found on its outskirts in the cool of night. It was hot during the day, and cold come nightfall.

But as he stared out at the endless dunes, hazy with unfiltered heat, Haru understood that he’d never before seen the desert at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/122272518933) on tumblr.)


	9. Chapter 9

_Haru would’ve preferred no escort at all to Samezuka, but it was no small feat that he convinced his parents only one was necessary. The journey to the foreign land was not far enough to warrant an overnight stay, had they left at sunrise. But Haru had stalled, waiting until high noon, and when they reached the palace his escort agreed a good night’s rest would be ideal._

_Rin hadn’t been informed of his visit, and was in a meeting when Haru stepped through Samezuka’s doors for the first time. The palace was decorated in gold and ruby, dark compared to his own home, but the high windows cast ample light through the glittering hallway. The escort was dismissed, having been granted his own guest chambers to relax, and Haru was whisked away by the queen herself._

_The late king’s study had been left untouched, filled with hand-drawn maps and countless journals of his travels. Gou was already seated when they arrived, a map unrolled on the table before her. Haru leaned one knee on a chair, the better to see the map from above. Samezuka was the grandest point of the map, complete with a crude drawing of the palace itself. He walked his fingers from the palace to Iwatobi, a journey that had felt so long but looked to be mere steps on paper._

_They studied points on the map, compared them to the journals, and calculated time and distance. They had a fortnight following the wedding—a mere two weeks to get as far from Iwatobi as possible._

_“What is that?” Haru asked, pointing to a thick, black line near the map’s perimeter._

_Queen Matusoka smiled. “That’s the country’s border. And this”—she pressed her finger to the blank expanse beyond it—“is the ocean.”_

_His eyes widened, sparkling like the fabled seas._

 

* * *

 

The music had begun. The palace was stifling; Gou was certain her white silk robes were transparent with sweat. She stood hidden in the foyer, where the bride had been instructed to wait for her grand appearance. The double doors were open a crack, just enough to peer though. She could see their guests, but they couldn’t see her. The whine of the sitar grew more grating and monotonous the longer it played, then musician paused at the end of the piece. He started over again, and the first murmured hush rose when the groom hadn’t stepped into the hall.

She stood alone as she waited. It was customary for the father to give away his daughter or, in his absence, her brother. Instead, Gou would escort herself to the altar. It was a small rebellion; it had been King and Queen Nanase themselves who’d forbid her own brother from the palace. Now, in the days of preparations and the constant buzzing of ladies-in-waiting, she delighted in her solitude.

She spied Queen Nanase whispering to a guard beside her, and then the guard nodded before hurrying out a side door—the very door intended to bring forth the young prince.

Gou stood upright, adjusted the veil that covered her face, and breathed.

 

* * *

 

Nagisa was happy enough watching Haru eat. Nagisa was perched on a side table, an ankle crossed over his knee, as Haru shoveled the spread before him. He’d been ravenous, not that he’d admitted it, and Nagisa had been prepared.

He couldn’t offer much. The bread was day-old, and he’d had to cut mold off the cheese. But anything was better than those boring dried foods Rei had packed for him. Though Haru didn’t say anything, the speed in which he ate was proof enough that he enjoyed the fresher foods infinitely more.

“Slow down, Haru-chan!” Nagisa said, suppressing a giggle. Haru looked up in surprise, then sat up straighter and chewed slower.

Nagisa jumped down from the table, then rolled a map out before Haru. He’d acquired it from a local map maker, thus it was both more detailed and accurate than the one Queen Matsuoka had drawn from memory. “The next village is a two-day journey,” he said, pointing to their location as Haru chewed. “Rei-chan should be guarding the gate. I’ll stay here and wait for Gou-chan and Mako-chan.”

Haru swallowed before speaking. “You’re sure you want to come? You don’t have to leave Iwatobi.”

“Of course we want to come!” Nagisa smacked both palms flat on the table, and Haru flinched as the plates rattled on its wooden surface. “Rei-chan and I can find work anywhere. And it’s more fun when we’re all together!”

Nagisa tried not to look at the empty glass Haru held in his grip. The rains still hadn’t come. He had some wine tucked away, but Haru had refused the offer. Instead, Haru tipped the glass back, waiting for the last drop of water to slide down into his mouth.

Nagisa had piled spare blankets in the corner of the room, but Haru politely refused to stay the night. He rose from the table, and before he could finish winding his scarf Nagisa assaulted him with a hug. He squeezed tight, and could almost feel the air emptying from Haru’s lungs. “Be careful, Haru-chan.”

 

* * *

 

_Haru stared at the chamber door. He pressed a hand to it, covering the detailed carving of a shark. The imprint of its teeth was sharp, even in its wooden interpretation. He breathed in, and then he knocked._

_“What?!”_

_He paused, considered replying, and then knocked again._

_There was no sound from within, but Haru smiled a little to imagine Rin’s grunt of annoyance. He must be strutting toward the door, grumbling that someone should dare arrive unannounced, not even replying when he answered . . ._

_The door swung open, and Rin’s jaw dropped. “Haru?!”_

_Rin stumbled backward as Haru hurried inside, pushing the door closed behind him. The surprise lasted only a moment before Rin broke into a grin. “Haru!”_

_Haru though he smelled different when they embraced. He was so used to the way Rin smelled after traveling, like foreign spice and sunlight, but the spices were stronger here. He must have recently bathed, because the overwhelming fragrance wafted off his skin. Haru buried his face in the crook of his neck, reveling in that scent._

_“What are you doing here?” Rin whispered, twining Haru’s hair through his fingers. “How . . . ?”_

_“The wedding.” Haru shook his head, breathing in the scent of his skin. “Never mind.”_

_Rin cupped Haru’s chin to tilt his face up, studying it in the brief moment before they would kiss. He pushed aside Haru’s fringe, then trailed the back of his hand down his cheek._

_“You’re here,” he whispered. “Can you stay the night?”_

_Haru kissed the tear that slid down Rin’s cheek. “Yes.”_

_They were a sudden tangle of lips and limbs, grabbling for each other as Rin backed up toward the bed. He wasted no time in parting the canopy, falling back onto the mattress and bringing Haru with him. He laughed; he moaned; he struggled to peel off Haru’s clothes while he still held to him desperately. Haru kissed him harder, lips catching on the point of Rin’s teeth._

_All Haru’s memories of Rin’s smile paled to the one before him—it shone even in the dim lighting, spreading wider when he softly laughed, the disbelief that Haru was naked in his chambers._

_Rin whispered his name, their hushed tones matched with the gentleness of the sheer canopy. The canopy was to keep out the bugs and the heat, but now provided an additional layer of solitude and secrecy. Haru traced a forefinger across Rin’s lips, which were uncommonly soft and already swollen with kisses. He trailed a hand down Rin’s chest, slipping it inside the exposed front of his robe. His heart pulsed madly against his palm._

_Rin arched his back, letting out a soft moan as Haru played at the knot of his belt._

 

* * *

 

The grand hall was too bright, and too warm. Makoto was unaccustomed to formal robes, with their many layers of silks plastered to his body. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades, and he tried not to fidget as it tickled on the way down. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring out over the wedding guests, waiting for the groom—or whatever was to follow.

The sitar player stopped again, the beading sweat on his forehead more prominent the longer he played. He made eye contact with Makoto, who slowly nodded for him to repeat the song yet again. He could keep it together as long as he didn’t speak, but feared his resolve would soon reach its breaking point as a guard hurried back into the hall.

He came up to the altar, as if this was a common wedding ritual, and stood too close beside him. “The prince is missing,” the guard whispered.

Makoto’s eyes widened in feign surprise.

“You know where he would be,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Makoto paused, as if considering it. He stared at the double doors that concealed Gou from view, and the ushers that patiently waited to open them for her. Then, he shook his head. “He should be here,” he whispered back.

The guard hesitated, as if he would say more, then disappeared again through the side door.

Now, it was King Nanase who approached the altar. His queen rushed down the aisle, her robes fluttering behind her, making her way toward the princess in waiting. When the king turned to address the guests they immediately fell silent, like a lamp extinguished to cast them all into darkness.

“Forgive us for the delay,” he said, his voice shaking the ground beneath Makoto’s feet. “ The prince seems to have forgotten today is his wedding day.” A polite chuckle rippled through the hall, but King Nanase was not smiling.

 

* * *

 

It didn’t seem so long since Haru had visited Nagisa, but the village had already disappeared behind him. Haru slowly blinked, and it was an effort to open his eyes in the heat of high noon.

“I’m going to fall asleep,” he muttered, and slid off the camel’s back. He held firm to the reins and walked beside the beast, the two sluggish as their feet dragged over the sand. Ahead, there was no sign of the next village. Haru squinted, imagining Rei standing beneath the shade of the wall. He hoped he wasn’t standing at attention in direct sunlight, waiting for his eventual arrival.

He touched the waterskin at his waist, denying that it was empty. He had one last water ration that he refused to even look at, for that was to last the remainder of the trip. He wasn’t yet at the halfway point, according to Queen Matusoka’s calculations. He closed his eyes while his feet moved automatically, allowing the camel to guide him over the dunes. He imagined the hot sand was the oasis, and that he was shaded by a canopy of trees. But when he opened his eyes the desert looked no different, like he hadn’t moved at all.

He’d never experienced a mirage, and was wary of anything that would appear in the desert. It would have been a welcomed relief to spy water, even if it was a hallucination, to break up the slow monotony of the dunes. So when a village wall appeared over the horizon, he was skeptical. Nagisa wasn’t yet two days behind him. The wall wasn’t getting any closer, despite his constant forward motion; he rubbed his eyes and rapidly shook his head, but it was still there. He tried not to stare at it as he walked, nibbling on a small bit of dried fruit to distract himself. The camel nosed his shoulder, and he allowed it to lap the rest from his palm.

But when he looked up again, the village stood. He lightly tugged the reins and quickened his pace, hoping—if it were real—they could arrive before nightfall.

 

* * *

 

_It was too hot to be close, wrapped around each other, sucking the sweat off the other’s skin. Haru couldn’t tell him that everything would be all right, that this wasn’t the last time they’d share a bed. He pushed down the guilt of not reciprocating Rin’s desperation. Instead he kissed Rin, sliding a hand up the side of his thigh as Rin lifted his hips._

_“Are you sure?” Haru asked, wanting to wait for when they had more time. There would be another chance to massage Rin’s body with lotion-coated fingers; he didn’t have to part his thighs just yet. But Rin nodded furiously, his hair flopping against his forehead, his hands squeezing Haru’s backside as he pulled him closer._

_“I want you first,” Rin murmured, guiding Haru’s hands between his legs. “Dammit, Haru, I—”_

_“Okay.” Haru kissed the bridge of his nose, kissed the corners of his eyes. He peppered his face with kisses until Rin smiled again, and then the slightest laugh vibrated in his chest. “I love you, Rin.” He kissed Rin’s lower lip, feeling the warm breath of his sudden exhale. “It’s okay.”_

 

* * *

 

When Gou awoke, she couldn’t remember falling asleep.

She was curled on her side in a foreign bed, staring at an unfamiliar wall. The room was semi-dark, lit by steady flicker of wall sconces. Someone behind her was breathing, but her head was too clouded to distinguish who it was.

She slowly turned to her other side, and let out a relieved sigh when seeing her mother.

“You’re awake,” Queen Matsuoka said. She lay a ribbon in the spine of the book she’d been reading.

“ _What_ is going on?” Gou tried to sit up, but her head felt heavy as solid gold. She groaned and flopped back down.

“ _That woman_.” Her mother leaned closer to the bed. “Queen Nanase thought you needed to _relax_. Remember that lovely tea she gave you after your _fiancé_ didn’t show up?”

Even narrowing her eyes hurt. “She _drugged_ me?!”

Queen Matusoka waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind that. It means you didn’t have to deal with all that sympathy for the past two days.”

Now, Gou did sit up, her head pounding so hard she thought it would crack open. “ _Two days?!_ ”

“Keep it down!” She grabbed Gou by both shoulders and shoved her back down. Even the overly-plush pillows did little to alleviate the throbbing in her temples. “You’ll leave tonight.”

“What—”

“There’ll be too many questions. I’ll alert Makoto to prepare the camels.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “Tell your brother he’s left a _fine_ mess for his mother to clean up.” When she sighed, a wayward strand of hair came loose from her veil and tickled her nose. “And that I love him.”

* * *

 

“Pri— Haru? Haru!”

Haru’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared blankly at the ceiling. Rei was still getting used to not calling him the prince—and failing miserably.

Haru slowly turned toward him. The damp cloth slid off his forehead, and he seemed to glare at it from his peripheral vision. “Don’t waste water,” he croaked.

“My apologies.” Rei’s chair creaked as he leaned forward, gently pressing the cloth to Haru’s forehead again. “It was required for your wellbeing. I used as little as possible.”

Rei had watched the prince— _Haru_ —crest the dunes, but he’d been sluggish. The camel nearly dragged him along, rather than the reverse. Rei had broken into a run the moment Haru collapsed to his knees.

“Are you able to sit?” Rei supported the back of his head, not letting go until he was sitting up against the wall. Haru caught the cloth as it fell off his forehead and squeezed it in his fist. It was dry enough that no water dripped through his fingers.

Haru stared at the orange glow of sunrise through a small window. Rei didn’t have to mention that he’d slept the night, much longer than he would’ve preferred. “I have to go,” Haru said.

“Please, wait.” Rei pressed down on his shoulders, though he hadn’t made an attempt to move. “You must eat something.”

Haru’s gaze fell to the bowl of berries on the bedside table. His stomach audibly rumbled, and Rei handed him one berry at a time—not too fast, so he didn’t further upset his empty stomach. He had no water to share with Haru, but he hoped the berries would suffice. They were still sweet, a suitable substitution for water as their juices stained Haru’s lips. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall as he chewed.

“The remaining journey will not be an easy one,” Rei said. He dropped another berry into Haru’s open palm. “Please ration your remaining water carefully. If my calculations are correct, you should pass through the desert in several hours. Though in your condition, it may not be until nightfall.”

Haru opened his eyes. “Pass the desert?”

Rei nodded. “I have received a message from the prin— from Rin. He says”—Rei sat up straighter and cleared his throat—“‘Haru will know where I am.’”

Haru grunted, then slid across the wall to rest in the corner. “Annoying,” he mumbled. Rei dropped a red berry into his hands and Haru stared at it, curious, like he didn’t know how it got there.

 

* * *

 

_They moved painstakingly slowly. Rin’s eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth open wide as he panted. His cheeks were pinked, the sheets already clammy with his sweat. Haru paused, waited for Rin to calm, before he pushed in a fraction deeper._

_Despite his repeated reminders to relax, Rin’s body hadn’t acclimated to feeling him within. He shifted in jerky movements, clamping his legs tighter around Haru’s hips and piercing his nails through the skin of his shoulder blades. Haru matched his breathing, exhaling when Rin inhaled, trying to force him to steady. Purpling bruises dotted the pale skin of Rin’s neck and shoulders, the evidence of Haru’s affection._

_“Stay.” Rin’s voice cracked through gritted teeth, lifting his hips to urge Haru in deeper. “Let’s stay . . . together . . . forever.”_

_He tensed when Haru moved, but finally began to relax. He still gripped too hard to Haru’s back but his breathing steadied, and he slowly rocked his hips to match his rhythm._

_Haru licked the sweat from Rin’s upper lip; he tasted of brine. “We will,” he said, kissing him again before Rin could say anything more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/123126200738) on tumblr.)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, this fic only had ten chapter. Well.

The air was hazy with the heat of high noon, visibly radiating over the dunes. The sands appeared as the fabled seas, rolling in to swallow him whole. _The water would never do that_ , Haru thought, trying to remember what the water felt like. He scratched a patch of dry skin on his arm, and it flaked off under his nails. His feet sank deeper with every step, like his own body weight was a burden.

Haru paused to unroll the new map from Nagisa. He blinked at it without seeing, the names and boundaries blurring in the haze. It no longer meant anything; he could see only from where he’d come, and to where he was meant to go. The only way he knew his path was correct was because Rei had pointed out which way to walk.

He’d slept in Rei’s quarters, but it meant little now. He dragged with dehydration and exhaustion, and he missed the bountiful meals of Iwatobi palace. Rei had restocked his provisions bag, but Haru was eating the same bland foods that were suitable for travel—dried meat, dried fruit, hard bread. The fruit, at least, was sweet, but he hardly tasted it. He only felt the clawing in his stomach as it tried to absorb anything from the little Haru fed it. He rubbed his throat, which stuck to itself when he tried to swallow.

He envied the camel. The beast was better suited for long journeys, and required little to survive. Haru paid scant attention to his travel companion, but the feeling was mutual. They didn’t try to communicate, besides the camel’s occasional nudge when Haru walked too slowly or the nuzzle of his palm when he would feed it.

“Soon,” Haru said, and the camel snorted. He wasn’t sure whether it agreed or was laughing at his optimism.

But he knew.

There were no signs—no blue ribbons, nor anywhere to affix them; no arrows carved into the sand to signal the right direction. Haru shuffled faster, stumbling as he climbed over the crest. He landed hard on his palms, knees trembling as he tried to stand again, using the camel for balance. One he was steady on his feet he rubbed his eyes, blinked hard, and stared into the valley.

 _The oasis_. A pool stretched wide between the palms, with a small island at its center. The water splashed like someone had jumped in, sparkling like a thousand diamonds, throwing small rainbows into the sunlight. He stood up straighter, as if heat and hunger no longer taxed his body.

_“Rin.”_

And then he ran.

 

* * *

 

“Mako-chan! Gou-chan!”

In the days of their travel, Gou was already transformed—she’d wrapped her long hair atop her head, keeping it in place with a silk scarf. She’d shed the many layers of formality, wearing a loose top and a long skirt that spilled over the sides of her camel. Her laugh was like the tinkling of bells, the ecstasy of freedom and the unknown.

Makoto panted as he jumped down from his camel. When he tried to adjust his robe, the fabric clung to the sweaty patches of his skin. He unwrapped his turban, revealing the damp, matted hair beneath. He groaned, leaning against the camel’s side as he raked a hand through his hair.

“Water?” Makoto croaked, and Nagisa shook his head. The camel grunted, prodding Makoto’s shoulder with his nose until he reluctantly stepped away from it.

Gou rummaged in her satchel and thrust a handful of berries at him. He hesitated not because they were mostly dried out, but because he’d already accepted her alms once on this trip.

“I have cheese,” Nagisa said, holding out a provisions bag. “We have enough until we get to Rei-chan.”

Makoto stared at Gou’s offering, but his need for moisture surpassed his desire for chivalry. He cupped his hands, and Gou poured the berries into them.

“Wherever my brother is,” she said, “it better be worth the trip.”

Nagisa clasped his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Journeys have no end, until the end of life itself.”

Makoto tilted his head, frowning as he chewed. “That’s not exactly encouraging, Nagisa.”

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing in here?”

King Nanase didn’t turn at the sound of his wife’s voice. He didn’t move at all—he stood in the middle of Prince Haru’s quarters, trying to garner any aspect of the boy’s personality from his room. There was nothing but what they had provided; if Haru had owned any personal belongings, they were gone. He’d opened the balcony doors but hadn’t stepped outside; he’d looked in the closet, but hadn’t sifted through the boy’s fineries.

“We will find him,” Queen Nanase said. She stood just outside Haru’s chamber, as if the threshold itself were tainted. “It is his duty to—”

“No,” King Nanase interrupted, “we won’t.” He walked toward the bed, then pressed his hand to the wall beside it. It wasn’t outwardly obvious; whoever had last escaped had closed it tight. But the king had lived long enough to recognize the empty thud of a secret passageway.

“But . . . what of the future of Iwatobi?”

He stepped away from the door without revealing its existence, a secret between him and the child who had slipped through it in the night. He didn’t turn to face her as he spoke. “I pray that one day,” he said, “you will realize we’ve lost more than an heir.”

 

* * *

 

The ruins offered little protection from the elements. When Rin had arrived, he’d discovered a corner that held a partial roof and was shaded from the noonday sun. The blanket that had been draped over his camel made a suitable bed in the corner, but now, someone else slept upon it.

He’d watched Haru run toward him, not expecting him to dive into the sand like it were water. By the time Rin had reached him, he was unconscious.

Rin pressed the damp cloth to Haru’s forehead. He was hot to the touch, and Rin wouldn’t touch him with his bare hands—only with the cloth, which was quickly going dry again. He’d found a small stream there behind the ruins, but feared it would soon run dry in the drought. His eyes flitted down to Haru’s naked body, despite his attempts to resist. His clothes still lay in a pile in the middle of the desert, on the outskirts of what Haru had likely believed was a vast pool of water. The camel had been no help, staring dumbly at his master as he’d stripped off his clothes. Rin was mildly impressed; he’d never thought anyone could disrobe so quickly.

Rin’s mother had packed a small jar of lotion in his bag. When he unscrewed the top the scent of roses invaded his nasal passages, and he coughed as it was trapped in the back of his throat. He slowly massaged the lotion into Haru’s skin, which was so dry in parts that it peeled off in sheets. He encircled Haru’s hips with both hands, his fingertips nearly touching, and couldn’t remember if Haru had ever been that thin.

He worked in silence. He massaged Haru’s shoulders, then across his collarbone and down his chest. He pushed Haru’s hair aside to get his neck, wishing he would turn over to get his back. Haru’s back, he remembered, looked worse.

Rin sighed and sat back on his heels, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead. He watched the slight rise and fall of Haru’s chest and caught his nose wiggling, like it sensed the overwhelming lotion. But Haru was there, and he breathed, and the worst of it was over.

 

* * *

 

Rei’s rented room was not fit to sleep four, nor did he have enough bed coverings for them all. He rushed down the alley with an armload of food, not having expected the travelers to eat _all_ his provisions the moment they’d arrived. He balanced a cask of wine in the crook of his arm, something he ordinarily wouldn’t partake in himself, but their reunion _was_ a sort of celebration.

Besides, there had still been no rain, and there was nothing else to drink.

He eased the door open with his backside, careful not to upset the makeshift bed that had been arranged near the door. “The baker was clearing out for the day,” he said, “so I was able to—”

He stopped, realizing none were awake to listen.

Gou had claimed his bed, her legs tangled in the sheet. Makoto and Nagisa were curled on the floor back to back, sleeping on top of their blankets rather than under them. Rei tiptoed around them to the dining table—hardly large enough for one, let alone four—and gently set down his armload of provisions.

He smiled at his sleeping guests, and then uncorked the wine. The _pop_ of the cork didn’t disturb their slumber, so he poured a small glass just for himself.

 

* * *

 

Haru vaguely recalled snippets of consciousness, moments when he’d open his eyes to a crumbling ceiling or to Rin leaning over him. He recalled drifting off again to the sound of Rin calling his name, or the distant sound of water echoing in his head. It was several days before he felt fully alert and able to sit up on his own.

Rin still fussed about him, but he knew better than to complain—Rin was there, and he was close, and Haru waited for the moments he’d press the damp cloth to his skin or rub him down with the foul-smelling lotion.

Haru didn’t ask about the oasis, not when he could look out the doorless entry and see nothing but sand himself. But he didn’t mind the ruins. He liked being outside, and there was a small stream behind it where they could get water. Rin was nervous about using too much, as it still hadn’t rained, but allowed Haru to drink. He would roll out Nagisa’s map while they sat near the water, showing him their location and to where they would travel. The ocean was still a week’s journey away, but they would be better prepared. And they would be with their friends.

But over the days, Rin was mostly silent. He’d apply the lotion to Haru's skin twice daily. They’d sleep side by side, not touching. They would sit outside the ruins at nightfall, welcoming the cool air. They’d kneel by the stream, dipping in their hands and feet. It wasn’t large enough to bathe in, but Rin had perfected the skill of patting down Haru’s dry skin with the damp cloth. He worked on his back as Haru leaned over the stream, cupping water into his palms to drink.

“Say something,” Haru said, staring at the water in his hands.

Rin paused, and then the cloth was no longer on his back. “Like what?”

Haru let the water trickle through his fingers. The vein of water could hardly be considered a stream; it reminded him of the times he’d spill water over the tub at Iwatobi, how it would trickle between the floor tiles toward the drain. The sun’s heat was now magnified on his back without the coolness of Rin’s cloth.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the plan?” Rin asked.

Haru sat up. Rin, too, had been staring at the water, as if he looked right through Haru. He twisted the cloth in his hands, the water dripping between his fingers and onto the ground at his knees.

“We couldn’t,” Haru replied, realizing too late how insubstantial that was. He didn’t try to stop Rin when he stormed back inside. Haru stared at the imprint of his knees in the sand, and the slight drop of water between them. He pressed a hand to the wet sand, then pushed off the ground to get up.

Rin was huddled into the corner on the makeshift bed, chin propped on his folded knees. He didn’t face the gap in the wall that served as a doorway but the wall itself, its crumbling façade in the opposite corner. Haru hadn’t figured out what this building had once been, here on the desert outskirts. A waypoint, perhaps, a single room used to house weary travelers reduced to four partial walls and a caved-in ceiling. Haru sat beside Rin and, when he made no motion to move, put an arm around his shoulders. They stared at the same spot on the wall, a slight beam of sunlight in a jagged crack.

“Rin.”

“You left me to think that you and my _sister_ . . .” He hugged his knees to suppress a shudder. “And after you shared my bed . . .”

Haru dropped his arm. He leaned against the wall while Rin curled up tighter, burying his face in his knees.

“This isn’t the romantic reunion you wanted,” Haru said.

“Of course it’s not!”

“Then why are you still here?”

Rin tripped on the blanket as he stood, using the wall for leverage before he tumbled back down. He curled his hand into a fist, knuckles pressed into the crumbling wall, though Haru couldn’t decide whether it was in anger or for support. He was panting, breathing too heavy for such little exertion, as if he’d hardly moved at all since finding the ruins—like he’d been waiting, silently, for Haru’s arrival, probably seated right outside the entryway so he didn’t miss the exact moment he came into view.

“Because I don’t want _that_ anymore!” He swung an arm toward the desert, and beyond. “Because I want to travel like my father did, and I want to do it with _you_. Because that life was ruining me, Haru! I couldn’t even _see_ you because of your parents’ stupid rules! Because they don’t know how to love you!”

Haru stared at the ground between his crossed legs, at the silver stitching on the blanket he sat upon.

“You just _went_ with it!” Rin cried. “It was all a lie, and you made me believe you _wanted_ it!”

Haru finally looked up, fighting to maintain an indifferent expression to counterbalance Rin’s fuming. “What do you want me to do? I can’t go back and change it.”

“I want you to kiss me, dammit.” Rin’s knees buckled, and he pressed his fist harder into the wall. “Because it’s been three days and you haven’t even _kissed_ me.”

Haru didn’t want to mention that he’d been unconscious for most of it. He didn’t want to do anything but what he asked, to stand up and take him where he stood. But this, too, was not the romanticism he wanted—Haru still moved slowly, feeling every pull of his dry skin as he rose to standing. He felt a trickle down the back of his shoulder where the skin had cracked and started to bleed. He looked at Rin, as if for the first time: Wearing the dusty tatters of his formal robes, indistinguishable save the gold stitching across his shoulders. He, too, had been burned on the journey over, his chest pink and patches on his arms peeling. Haru couldn’t recall him ever using the lotion for himself.

Rin’s eyes fluttered closed before Haru even touched him, and nearly melted in his hands when Haru cupped his face. He was surprised by how soft his skin felt despite the burns across the rest of his body. Rin had been good about wearing his turban on the journey over, then, using it to shield his face from the desert sun. He trailed his fingers down Rin’s cheeks; he touched his lips, which were soft under his fingertips. Rin breathed harder, and he felt the slight puff of air through his nose.

Haru didn’t close his eyes, not at first. He watched Rin as long as possible as he leaned in, trying to watch their lips as they brushed, but his eyelids grew heavy as he pressed into the kiss. Rin let out a soft moan, the relief of delayed gratification, and his arms wrapped around Haru’s back.

But Rin pulled away too quickly, cutting him off mid-breath and leaving Haru disoriented with the sudden space between them. “You’re bleeding,” Rin said, extending his arm. The blood was smeared on the crook of his elbow, imprinted with the starburst pattern of Haru’s skin.

Haru touched his arm like he didn’t believe him. The blood was wet and warm. “Yeah.”

Rin shook his head, then tore a strip of cloth from the hem of his robe. Haru smiled as he wrapped it under his arm, and kissed Rin's cheek as he knotted the cloth at his shoulder. It was a small relief when Rin smiled, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/123577622058) on tumblr.)


	11. Chapter 11

Queen Matsuoka hurried down the hallway, her escorts desperately trying to match pace. Samezuka palace was quiet. She didn’t look down the hall that would lead to her children’s rooms. She ignored the oversized portraits of rulers, which began with Samezuka’s founder and ended with herself. She clutched her scarf around her neck; her turban threatened to slip off. She lowered her head as she yanked the double doors open to her quarters, and didn’t face her escorts as she addressed them.

“I am retiring for the remainder of the day,” she said, and in their perplexity didn’t even move to close the doors. She pushed them closed herself and threw down the crossbar.

Her children had disappeared. That was the extent of the rumor thus far. She could spin an elaborate tale—how the prince had gone missing, and the princess sought to find him. Queen Matsuoka leaned against the door, the crossbar digging into her lower back. She stared at the wall over the bed, which bore the sole portrait that adorned her chambers: King and Queen Matsuoka, younger than she could even remember being, accompanied by a boy who clung to his father’s leg and an infant who could barely sit up on her own.

She, too, could disappear. She would not be the first Matsuoka, but she would certainly be the last. She unwound her turban as she crossed the room for the balcony, leaving red ribbons of silk in her wake. When she pulled the doors open, the evening air was even hotter than that in the stuffy bedroom. Samezuka was spread out before her, from the guards manning the gates of her palace to the slums at the farthest reaches of her land.

News would travel fast.

There was a tentative knock on her door, and she was inclined to ignore it. She waited for the receding footsteps that meant her unannounced visitor had gone away, but didn’t think she would be so lucky. And then, another knock, louder this time. The voice that followed was almost too soft to hear. “Your Majesty?”

Queen Matsuoka took her time crossing the room again, then took a deep breath before swinging open the doors.

Ai immediately stood up straight in the queen’s presence. He looked even younger than his years, with his eyes wide and his hands clasped at his chest. She didn’t know many of the Royal Guard by name, but it was impossible to forget the boy—General Sousuke trained him personally, and they were often found in Prince Rin’s room when the trio had a rare free moment. He didn’t have to speak for her to know from where he’d come. The queen glanced over his head into the hallway, but the general didn’t accompany him. Only the two guards manning either side of her door were present, staring straight ahead with their bayonets, as if the hallway would suddenly flood with opposition. They hardly acknowledged the boy; he’d been granted permission to knock on her door months prior.

She stepped aside to allow him entrance, and for a moment Ai simply stared over the threshold. When she cleared her throat, he scurried inside like he would get in trouble, despite being inside the queen’s quarters numerous times before—but never alone. She bolted the door behind him.

“He won’t be returning,” she said without introduction, surprised by the calm of her own voice. Ai yelped, wringing his hands, looking around the room at everything but her. She also noticed, unsurprisingly, that he avoided the portrait over the bed. “He’ll be fine, Ai.” She couldn’t force a smile, but managed to lightly ruffle his hair. It felt stiff and unnatural.

Ai stared at the floor between his feet. “Is he”—he swallowed hard—“with . . . Prince Nanase?”

She didn’t know how much news of the past several days had returned to Samezuka. Last she heard, her country only knew that the princess had departed to become queen of Iwatobi. Ai didn’t ask after Gou, which wasn’t strange under the circumstances, but somehow he still suspected her fiancé to be with the prince. She didn’t want to know the rumors that were bubbling through the palace.

But she couldn’t have asked after his suspicions, anyway, not with the emotion that now swelled in her throat. She managed to force a smile to prevent it from spilling over, her hand trembling as she stroked the boy’s hair. But his face was tilted up now, waiting for her response. Waiting for her to be the strong Queen Matsuoka they all trusted with their land and their lives.

She nodded, feeling much the child herself, as the first tear trickled down her cheek. Ai visibly relaxed but still looked nervously around the room, like someone else would be there to overhear. Her forced smile did little to prevent the steady stream of tears. She pulled the boy into a hug, smothering him against her breast. He smelled of the stables and of iron, nothing like her own pampered children. He hesitated before returning the embrace, his slight arms around her waist as his shoulders began to tremble.

 

* * *

 

Rin couldn’t sleep.

It was hot, he was dripping with sweat, and his chest felt like the flames of the sun itself. He couldn’t take a deep breath, because Haru’s head was heavy against his heart.

Despite the annoyance, Rin smiled.

Though they slept beneath the partial roof, Rin could see the sky from its broken fragments on the other side of the room. He’d watched the sky turn from violet to black, absent of stars that night. He looked down at Haru, who slept soundlessly. He felt the gentle exhale of warm breath on his chest. Haru’s skin had mostly faded from red to bronze, but was now peeling horribly. Rin picked at the dead skin on his shoulder, slowly lifting it off in an unbroken sheet. He stared at the transparent layer of skin, holding it up to the slight moonlight.

“Why are you peeling me?” Haru muttered.

Rin chuckled, dropping the dead skin to the floor. “Sorry, love.”

Haru propped his chin on Rin’s chest to look up at him, knitting his eyebrows. “‘Love’?”

“No?” Rin said. “I thought it was cute.”

He scrunched his nose, but otherwise didn’t reply. Instead, Haru inched up to Rin’s eye level and lay beside him; they turned to face each other, tilting their heads in until their foreheads touched. When they kissed Haru's lips were slightly chapped, rough from the constant sunlight. But his touch was gentle, like he was still wary of the fading burn of his skin. They hadn’t yet ventured into intimacy again but Rin’s body craved it, feeling his naked skin and not being absorbed by it. Rin pampered him with kisses instead, with lotion and water and the meager meals he prepared for them both. Rin tilted his head to breathe in more of him, catching the slight hitch of Haru’s breath.

“C’mon,” Rin said, wiggling backward. “I want to show you something.”

Haru didn’t outwardly complain about getting up, but took his time following Rin outside. He’d grabbed the blanket to wrap about his shoulders, then threw a corner around Rin so they could huddle together outside the ruins. The night air was cold, but it was a welcomed relief—they were far enough away from the hottest parts of the desert, but the sun still rose high and unobstructed during the day. Rin’s skin prickled, and he could feel the hair on Haru’s arm standing on end. Despite the cool nights, they slept mostly nude—their shared body heat was better than sleeping in the flimsy silk robes of their former lives.

“Look at that,” Rin said, pulling Haru closer with one arm as he pointed to the sky with the other.

Haru squinted upward, as if his eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the dark. The moon was only a dull glow behind the clouds; otherwise, nothing was visible overhead. “It’s cloudy,” he said, pressing closer to Rin as he shivered.

"I _know_." Rin kissed his temple. “It’s going to _rain_ , Haru.”

He thought of his mother, and if she was unhappy or bored in the palace by herself. He wondered how quiet it was without him. He thought of King and Queen Nanase, and if they would bother to search for their prince. He thought of their friends, wondering how much longer they had to wait for their arrival. He buried his face in Haru’s hair, trying to absorb his once-familiar scent. But Haru no longer smelled like powders and the cleanliness of water; he smelled of the desert itself, like the warmth of sunlight over endless dunes. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it would take getting used to. Haru nuzzled the side of his neck, pulling the blanket closer around them. Rin combed his hair with his fingers; it was soft again like he remembered, having washed away the grit and sand from his journey. When Rin kissed the top of his head, he felt Haru smile.

 

* * *

 

The boys had wanted to rest for the night, but Gou was determined to keep moving. Nagisa hugged his camel’s neck as he rode, drooling and half-asleep; Rei had dismounted his to walk beside it, attempting to keep alert as he tripped over the sands. Makoto yawned loudly every few minutes, which was mildly annoying; he’d stretch one arm out while he held to the reins with the other.

The sky had been heavy with clouds all night, the moon hidden behind them. Only a few stars were visible, determinedly sparkling between the rapidly-moving clouds. Gou watched them swirling far above them, the sky darkening as they grew heavier.

“Do you think it will rain?” Rei asked no one in particular.

Nagisa sat up and stretched both arms overhead. “With rains come peace and good fortune!”

The ground shook as Makoto yawned, as if he were the culprit rather than the rumble of thunder.

“There won’t _be_ any peace,” Gou said, glaring at the clouds, “if we don’t find shelter soon.”

“I wouldn’t be concerned,” Rei said, adjusting his glasses. “If I’m not mistaken, that”—he pointed to an indistinct spot on the horizon—“is our destination.”

Nagisa sat up straight, suddenly wide awake, his camel snorting in surprise. “Good fortune! We’re coming, Haru-chan! Rin-chan!” Gou smacked the reins, urging her camel forward.

 

* * *

 

Haru felt the first drop of rain on his cheek. He was kissing Rin, the blanket slipping from their shoulders. The drop trickled down the side of his face, then slid down his neck. Then there was another, splashing his shoulder like a pinprick of fire on his skin. He’d never had to visually confirm the water’s presence; he’d always sensed the coming of rains, just has he’d sensed the oasis behind Iwatobi palace. He felt the opening of the skies from deep within him, and the ground shook beneath their feet. Rin held to him tighter, like that would protect them if the ground split open.

But instead, the rains came down all at once. Rin rumbled with laughter, their hair and skin soaked like the fabled seas had come to them instead. Haru pulled him closer, kissed him deeper. But Rin couldn’t hold it in, not when their skin was soaked through, their bodies slick with unceasing rains. He laughed as they broke apart, throwing his head back to welcome the bounty of the heavens. Haru, too, tilted his face up, eyes closed to the rush of water, lips parted as the rains kissed them. He remained immobile, even when Rin hugged him tighter, and when Rin’s lips sought the side of his neck. The sodden blanket dropped and they were left exposed to the elements, the rains beating down on them as Rin kissed his neck, his shoulders, his clavicle. Rin spoke his name over and over, but Haru _felt_ it more than heard it; his body vibrated with Rin’s voice, with his laughter, with his kisses. Rin’s mouth was pressed to his ear. “The fabled seas will be better,” he whispered. When they looked at each other, the flash of lightning reflected in his eyes.

Haru looked up again, the stars beginning to appear through the waning clouds. He closed his eyes, accepting the answer to their prayers and the blessing for their endless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, it seems I've set myself up for a sequel.
> 
> (Chapter is [here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/124004954148) on tumblr.)


End file.
